To Live and Die in Weisshaupt
by Tk137
Summary: Inquisitor Brady Trevelyan has found content in a new found romance, but with The Grey Wardens' infighting and a world changing discovery by the Hero of Ferelden, can he manage to solve yet another Thedas' crisis? A continuation of "From Val Royeaux with Love."
1. The Warden

"You're not doing it right." Leliana scolded, her hands resting across her chest, her foot thumping against the gravel. The bright afternoon sun cascaded over Skyhold, casting shadows from the buildings over them.

"Leliana..." He lowered the bow in his hands, "This blighted thing won't cooperate."

She laughed, "Because you've got it all wrong."

"Can't you give me my sword back?"

Her eyes darted to the sword a couple of feet away from them, then looked back at him with a smirk, "No."

He sighed and threw his head back, "This is getting us nowhere."

"Here." She gently grabbed the bow from his hand and readied her stance. "Hold it tightly with one hand," She raised the bow, "Ready the arrow and pull back," She pulled the bowstring back until her right hand grazed her face, "Eye down your target," She closed one eye and took a deep breath, "Then, release." The arrow flew from the bow, hitting the bullseye of the target that was almost forty yards away.

He scoffed with playfulness filling his tone, "Now you're just showing off."

Another laugh came from her chest. She lowered the bow and smiled at him, "You're making this much harder than it truly is, Inquisitor."

"Part of my charm." He smirked, his eyes shining against the light of the sun, "You know, I have a thing or two we could do besides this..."

She smiled toward the ground, her cheeks growing pink, "As much as I'd love to know what you had in mind, I believe it's about time we did something a bit more productive."

He chuckled, "I'd say what I'm thinking is _very _productive."

She laughed, and rested the bow at her feet. She slunk closer to him, his eyes growing with enticement. She rested a hand on his chest, and pulled on a grin. "Brady..." She whispered on his lips. He leaned into her, his hands finding the small of her back. As he was about to kiss her, she swept a leg over his, taking out both of them and making him fall hard on his back. "When's the last time you practiced your hand-to-hand?"

He looked up at her and groaned, throwing his head back against the dirt and closing his eyes, "That wasn't even fair."

She grinned, "Nobody ever accused me of playing _fair._" She held out a hand to him. He sat up and grabbed it tightly. With a tug, he pulled her on top of him, sending her down hard against his body.

Her fiery hair peeked out of her hood. He moved a misplaced piece behind her ear. "If you want to fight dirty..."

She pressed her head against his chest, suppressing a giggle.

As Brady was about to speak, Cullen's voice joined them. "I hope I'm not interrupting..." He barbed with a grin.

They both looked up at him, his body shadowing over theirs. Leliana pressed against Brady's chest and pulled herself up. He groaned at the sudden pressure, and then got up as well. "Commander." Brady cleared his throat, brushing off the dirt off of his white shirt.

Cullen crossed his arms, "A Grey Warden has arrived to Skyhold, and he's refusing _any _details until he speaks to you."

Brady furrowed his brows and looked to Leliana, who simply shrugged. "Did he at least share a name?"

Cullen shook his head, "No. But this requires your immediate attention, if that wasn't apparent already."

"Alright." Brady grabbed his sword from the ground and began to walk towards the fortress, "I'm curious to see what our Warden friend has to say."

Cullen and Leliana followed behind, heading up the fleets of stone stairs and into the throne room. Brady noticed a man in distinct warden armor standing to his back to him. The man's shoulder length black hair stopped just before his armor began, and he stood in a stoic stance. As they grew closer, the Grey Warden turned, and looked directly at Brady with his steel grey eyes.

"You must be Inquisitor Trevelyan," He spoke with a Ferelden accent, "An honor to finally meet you."

"And you are?" Brady replied.

"Nathaniel Howe," Leliana announced, "The years have been kind to you."

"Leliana," He beamed with a smile, "Always a pleasure, m'lady."

Brady shook his hand with a firm grip. "What brings you to Skyhold, Warden Howe?"

Nathaniel let go of the Inquisitor's hand and stood up straight, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I would prefer we speak somewhere more privately, Inquisitor." He looked around to the wandering eyes that cluttered the throne room.

Brady nodded and agreement, and motioned towards the war room. Nathaniel followed his lead and upon entering Josephine's office, closed the door shut behind them. Leliana walked over to where Josephine was sitting. Josephine's hands were folded on the desk as she leaned forward to better hear the conversation. Cullen stayed at Brady's side with a weariness only he could possess.

"I assume these are all trusted associates..." Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at Brady.

"These are my advisers, warden... I assure you that we are in a safe setting." Brady answered with confidence swelling in his tone.

"Very well," Nathaniel stood up straight again, causing Cullen to do the same. "I am coming from Weisshaupt to ask for your aid personally, Inquisitor."

"My aid?" Brady questioned.

Leliana chimed in, "We stopped getting communication from Weisshaupt about six months ago."

Nathaniel chuckled, "That sounds about right. The First Warden has done everything in his power to suppress any idea of the rebellion."

"Rebellion?" Cullen furrowed his brows at Nathaniel. Cullen looked over to Brady, "Maker's breath, this has Hawke written all over it."

"Cullen..." Josephine scolded. He hushed at her voice.

Nathaniel looked to Cullen, "I have read _The Tale of the Champion_, and could see why one would assume Serah Hawke had something to do with this," Nathaniel gave him a short grin, "And I'm not saying she _didn't_ have anything to do with this... but the issue goes far deeper than her push."

Brady crossed his arms over his chest, "So the Grey Wardens need my help to stop a rebellion?"

"No, Inquisitor," Nathaniel shook his head with grim eyes, "We need your help to _start_ one."

Brady's eyes grew larger, while Cullen let out a sigh, "We cannot get involved in this, Inquisitor. The Grey Wardens should learn to clean up after themselves for a change."

"How has it gotten so bad at the fortress?" Leliana let out a thought.

Josephine leaned a bit closer, "The nobles from the Anderfels have been whispering about The First Warden's ambitious goals for sometime... it is possible that the wardens are tired of the politicking he brings to The Order."

"The First Warden begun all of this." Nathaniel confirmed with an edge in his tone.

"Warden Howe," Brady cocked an eyebrow, "Surely there is more to this rebellion than the annoyance of the First Warden's politicking."

"Of course, Inquisitor." Nathaniel nodded. He looked around to the others in the room, their eyes waiting for him to continue. "Warden-Commander Cousland arrived in Weisshaupt several months ago with alarming discovery."

"A cure to the Calling." Brady assumed.

"Precisely. He presented it to the First Warden, alongside Hawke. The First Warden was- less than pleased at the discovery." Nathaniel studied the Inquisitor's face, who stood stoic in front of him.

"The Calling, from what I've read and heard, is a terrible shadow over any warden." Brady narrowed his eyes in thought, "Why would the First Warden look at it with negativity?"

Nathaniel let out a dark chuckle, "Then you see the conflict, Inquisitor. There are wardens who see this as a hope for longer lives, a way out of the curse the Joining brings us. Then there are others, like the First Warden, who see this as a desecration on our very Order."

Brady nodded with an understanding. Nathaniel relaxed underneath his armor. Cullen spoke up, "With all due respect, Warden Howe, I don't see how the Inquisition could help."

Nathaniel tensed up again, the back of his neck growing hot. "The First Warden is a man who only has his own personal agendas as priority, if that wasn't apparent. He has Warden-Commander Cousland incarcerated. Do you understand? _The Hero Of Ferelden _is in a dungeon because of the First Warden's opposition."

"Damon?" Leliana's voice was a squeak. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine as of the time I had left." Nathaniel confirmed, "Oghren was in charge of watching over him. Lady Morrigan is not pleased, though."

"Morrigan? She's in the Anderfels as well?" Brady Inquired.

"She's the one who sent me here. Her specific instructions being to gain your support and not breathe a word of the rebellion to anyone else besides you." his back straightened, "We were hoping due to your assistance of the Order at Adamant, you could once again grace us with your help."

Leliana's voice dropped, "Inquisitor..." He looked over to her. Her eyes were full of a worry he only saw her express once before- above him on the floor of Meredith's stronghold.

His eyes connected with the floor for a moment, and he brought his eyes back to Nathaniel. "We will assist your rebellion, Warden Howe, but we must do it with a deft touch."

"Inquisitor," Cullen argued, "The Anderfels are weeks away from here. Even if you're certain-"

Nathaniel raised his voice over Cullen's, "There is _another _thing Lady Morrigan wanted me to inform you of." Brady waited for him to continue, as did everyone else in the room. "She spared details to me, of course. But she said she had left something in Skyhold prior to her departure. and that you would know 'exactly what I am talking about.'" He emulated her tone with a severe accuracy.

He furrowed his brows in thought, and his eyes widened quickly at realization. He let out an amused laugh, "The Eluvian." He turned to Josephine and let out an order, "We need the full support of our allies before we go to Weisshaupt. Get in touch with King Alistair. I'm sure he would take too kindly to one of his close friends being imprisoned." She nodded, and scribbled on her parchment. He allowed a sly smirk to graze his lips, "As for Celene, she owes me a favor or two."

"Thank you, Inquisitor." Nathaniel bowed his head in gratitude, "My orders are to head to Vigil's Keep and convince them to support our cause. I'm sure we will see each other again very soon."

"In war: victory, warden." Brady smiled. Nathaniel shot him a smirk, and exited the room.

At his leave, Cullen spoke up. "Are we sure we want to support this? The wardens have been making this bed for years. If you ask me, maybe it's time they slept in it."

Brady shot him an authoritative look, "I've made my decision, commander." With his words, Cullen hushed.

"Inquisitor, allow me to speak to The King of Ferelden." Leliana leaned forward, "I could convince him quickly to help."

"As could I, Leliana." Josephine's voice carried a joking tone.

"I could go to Denerim," She suggested, "It's always nice to visit Alistair." She spoke with an informality in her words.

"Very well." Brady nodded his head, and directed his attention to Josephine, "Contact Celene and Briala. Convince them it's about time they visit Skyhold."

"Of course," She smirked, "What is the lure? Art or magic?"

"Fashion." Brady grinned, "And a chance for the Marquise to stretch her legs."

Josephine looked down at her parchment and began to scribble. With a nod, he exited the room.

* * *

Brady sat at the desk in his quarters with a quill in his left hand. He looked down with scorn at the parchment resting on his desk. He had planned to at least put words to a strategy, but his mind was failing him.

"Troubled?" Leliana spoke, her silent entrance going unnoticed and startling him.

He let out a chuckle, "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

She walked over to behind his seat and ran her hands down his slowly rising chest. He settled deep into the chair and closed his eyes. She rested her cheek against his. "What are you thinking?" She asked, her voice no louder than a whisper against his ear.

"Are we doing the right thing?" He asked, his eyes looking over to her.

She hummed lightly and replied, "I believe so." He soothed underneath her soft touch.

His eyes fluttered shut, "When do you leave for Denerim?"

"In the morning."

"I wish I could join you." He pressed his lips into a thin line and caused a wrinkle to appear between his brows. "I don't like the idea of you going alone. You should take Bull and Blackwall with you, just in case."

"I'm taking my agents with me... much more subtle." She pressed a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to relax. His light stubble tickled the soft skin of her face. "I'm more concerned on how you're going to bend Celene to cooperate."

"_Really _good tea." He grinned.

"Inquisitor..." she patted his chest, "Seriously."

He let out a short sigh and looked up at her, "The Orlesian wardens could cause a problem if they become leaderless. I'll present the issue to Celene and Briala and hope that they don't want to deal with another complicated issue so soon after the Civil War."

Leliana patted his chest and walked over to his bed. She sat down and crossed her legs, resting her folded hands on her knee. He watched her, an unintended grin grazing his face at the sight of her grace. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a vile full of assorted herbs. She toyed with the remedy and pointed it at Brady, "Cullen wanted me to give this to you."

Brady got up from his chair and walked over to her, grabbing the vile gently and pulling off the cap. He scrunched his face and threw it back in one gulp. He winced, then threw the empty vile into the waste bucket the rested close to his desk.

"Does it help? She asked, her brows arching, "With the dreams?"

He sat down close to her, "I've slept better," He admitted. "Whether that's due to the remedy or you, I don't know."

She let out a chuckle, her cheeks gaining color, "I guess you'll find out soon enough." She took his hand into hers and rested their intertwined fingers on her lap. He squeezed her hand gently. His free hand caressed her face, causing her ocean orbs to overflow with a bliss that washed across her entire body. Her face leaned toward his warm touch. He placed a kiss on her forehead, causing a hum from her chest to vibrate the air. "I should go before somebody starts asking questions."

He frowned with protest as she got up and her hand slipped away from his. He let out a labor sigh. She noticed, and looked back at him with a smirk and pecked his lips with a small haste.

"Will you be back tonight?" He asked as she began to exit his quarters.

She arched one brow and pulled at a grin, "Maybe."


	2. Support from an Empire

Leliana had decided her best ideas recently were when she sneaked into Brady's room at nightfall. Whether she would ever admit it to anyone or not, she felt a sense of security in his presence, as though he would never allow a single thing to harm her. She would think of Marjolaine at times, her mind setting off alarms about the familiar feelings he made rest on her weary eyes and pained chest. She found comfort on how simple it was to shake off the idea of Marjolaine. He was nothing like her, and it has been long past due for her to let go of the fear that would creep up in her mind.

The morning sky had not reached Skyhold, and the room stayed dark besides the gleaming light of the fleeting moon. Brady slept beside her. She watched his face at a complete state of peace. His chest rose slowly and fell back against his lungs. She grinned at his pursed lips, noting that he had a distinct face whenever he slept. She moved away a few dark, short pieces of his hair off of his forehead and nuzzled back into his arms. She could feel his warmth on her bare skin and sighed into his chest. Her senses were filled with every aspect of him. She smelled of brisk fresh air and a cool mist like one that blew off of the Waking Sea in a storm. It was intoxicating, making her feel a sense of content in her chest and an ease in her mind.

With a sniff, he rustled and let out a short breath. His closed eyes tightened for a moment and his mouth cringed. She watched him with intent, her hand finding his cheek and making an attempt to soothe the wrinkles showing up on his face. His eyes broke open. There was a sense of fear in them, but the anxiety he felt in his chest subsided at the sight of her calm next to him.

"I'm sorry," He murmured, falling from his side to his back and letting out a long breath, "Did I wake you?"

"No," her quiet answer made his head turn. Her head was perched up against her hand. She managed a warm look, and he melted underneath the look of her ocean eyes. "Another dream?"

He let out a deep sigh, "This one was different. I saw-" He stopped himself, dropping his head against his pillow and running his fingers through his hair with detest.

"Brady," Her voice was even. She pushed her body against the headboard and put her hand into his. He relaxed to her touch, and squeezed her petite hand into his.

His eyes looked up at her. He couldn't help but pull at a grin when he noticed her tousled red hair that hadn't recovered from their night together. "I'm fine." He nodded.

She wasn't convinced, and he knew. Before she could protest, he silenced her with a gentle kiss against her neck. She let out a chuckle and pressed her hands against his rising chest, "Don't think I'm that easy to distract."

He smiled against her skin, "Of course, Spymaster." His voice vibrated through the nerves in her neck and down her spine. He pressed another kiss against her jaw. His hand began to secure itself across her waist, trying to persuade her through an ingenious pattern of touches. He could feel her heart quicken through the pulse in her neck and he almost grinned at his own success.

Leliana let out a short sigh, her body almost becoming completely limp underneath him. With a sly grin, she rolled him over and pecked his lips. When she could feel his satisfaction in her reaction, she jumped away from him and off the bed. She looked back with a smirk and let out a soft laugh at the innocent look that manifested against his face.

She looked to the balcony for a moment, noticing the sun rising over the mountains and shining it's light against Skyhold's courtyard. He followed her gaze and grimaced, his mind filling with the loss of simplicity in the early morning's moments.

He watched her collect her clothes from around the room, her bare body showing a vulnerable beauty that could bring the Maker himself to his knees. He sat up, allowing his sheets to cover the lower part of his body. His arms crossed over his chest as he cocked an eyebrow, "Leaving already?"

She began sliding articles of clothing back onto her body, "You don't want people talking, no?"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm sure they already have an idea, Leliana. I'm not too good at hiding these sorts of things."

"Well," She slipped on her boot, "I am."

The sun began to peak onto the stained glass that cluttered the windows, allowing colors of gold and blue to tint the room. He leaned forward, resting his arms against his knees. "You know I won't see you until you reach Weisshaupt."

She didn't meet his eyes as she flipped her hood over her head, "I know."

He pursed his lips to the side and let out a disapproving groan, "Goodbye, then?"

She grinned against the cover of her hood and paced over to him with swift, fluid steps. Both of his brows raised with a delighted surprise as her gloved hands found his face and she pressed a deep kiss against his lips. "I'll see you soon." She smiled against his mouth, and with a departing peck, she walked and descended down his stairs.

She heard him sigh as she left. Though she trusted him in dealing with whatever was thrown his way, she still harbored a worry in the back of her mind for him. He hadn't spoken of any of his dreams to her- almost doing anything to change the subject when it came up.

As she reached the main hall, she let out a breath of relief. There was an absence of servants in the hall, and she had slipped away from his quarters without being detected. She could hear the soldiers getting ready outside. The sun had rose higher than the mountains, bleeding light into the hall and allowing the windows to cascade down patterns against the stone floor.

Leliana took steps out of the main hall and out to the courtyard. She had seen a rather large coach already prepared for the journey to Denerim. Bull and Blackwall stood beside it, along with the agents she intended to bring.

When she reached the coach, Bull and Blackwall both nodded and bid her a warm good morning. Bull had his breakfast of a muffin in his hand and also scattered around his face, while Blackwall stood beside him with his arms crossed. The bags under his eyes looked darker than usual, most likely from a sleepless night, Leliana gathered.

She tilted her head to the side, "What are you two doing out here?"

Bull spoke with a mouthful muffling his words, "We're to go to Denerim."

She narrowed her eyes, "I was unaware that you both would be joining me..."

"Got the orders last night, Lady Leliana," Blackwall confirmed, relaxing his arms. "The Inquisitor told us to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Bull shot a glance to Blackwall, then turned his head to Leliana with a smile, "We're basically bodyguards, Red."

He chin dropped down as she darted her eyes between them, "The Inquisitor gave you these orders?" They both nodded in confirmation, and she let out a groan, "Why is he so-" They looked at her with widened eyes. She stopped herself and recollected her composure. "Very well. Let's go."

* * *

Cullen stood beside Brady, along with Josephine. Cullen sported decorated armor that differed from his usual suit of armor. It still had motifs to a lion, but was made of silverite and had a sharp blue tint to it when the sun hit it right.  
Josephine also wore a slight variation of her usual clothing. Her dress was more decorated compared to the golden one she was usually seen in. The material was Dales loden wool, and it was both fashionable and able to ward off the mountain air.  
Brady managed to convince Josephine that his Inquisition armor and helm was both intimidating and regal enough for the Empress. He held his helmet against his waist with one hand and rested the other on the hilt of his sword in the sheath at his hip.

"Now that Leliana is gone..." Cullen spoke up, "Was it strategy sending Blackwall and Iron Bull away, or just you being a bit overprotective?" Brady could hear in Cullen's voice that he was suppressing a laugh.

"Blackwall is still considered a criminal to the Empire of Orlais," He tipped his head to Cullen, "and I'm not trying to find out how Celene reacts to a Ben-Hassrath in our ranks."

"Tal-Vashoth, Inquisitor." Josephine chimed in.

"Right. See? Completely strategic, Commander." Brady crossed his arms. His foot began to tap on the pavement, "Celene really likes to keep us waiting."

"The Orlesian customs encourage being fashionably late, Inquisitor." Josephine shifted her hip to the side.

Brady let out a huff and ran his fingers through his hair, slightly tugging on the short locks. He closed his eyes and let in a deep breath, expelling the tension between his temples with an exhale.

Cullen scrunched his face, taking note of Brady's restless appearance. He could assume what was wrong, as he had seen himself in that same position before. He stopped himself from pointing it out- both because he didn't know what the reaction would be and that he trusted that Brady could tame his own demons without having them exposed in the courtyard.

Josephine continuously looked to her parchment, her eyes darting from the bridge to Skyhold and then back again. About twenty or so moments of impatient twitching, a carriage grazed their eyes. It crossed the bridge with grace, two horses leading it forward while a well dressed coachmen held the wrings. The coverings were a shimmering white, almost blinding when reflecting off the sun. Behind it were three not as impressive caravans, presumably filled with the Empress' endless secret service soldiers.

Brady brought a gleaming smile as the carriage stopped in front of him. He walked over to the door on the side and opened it with a gentle pull. Celene sat inside with her familiar miraculous mask covering the tip of her nose up to the end of her forehead. Her dress almost flowed to the outside of the carriage, its gems and subtle white color somehow manifesting such an elegance against her slender frame. Marquise Briala sat beside her with her hands folded in her lap and a small smile upon the sight of Brady. Her tinted gold mask complimented the emerald dress she wore.

"Inquisitor," Celene spoke with a song in her tone, "I'm delighted to finally come to your home for a change." Brady held out a hand and helped her out of the carriage. On the other side, Cullen did the same for the Marquise. When her feet hit the ground, she brought her nose up, "Though, I could do without all of the mud."

"Your radiance," He bowed as she looked down on him. Her soldiers began to pour out of the caravans behind them. They marched closer to Celene, but not too close, giving her and Brady a soft distance for private whispers if they were expelled.

"Your ambassador tells me that you have had a countless amounts of rare gowns and jewelry found in a chateau in the Emerald Graves?" Her hand tipped towards Brady, her porcelain skin curling up as her lips broke into a slight smile.

Brady licked his bottom lip and cocked an eyebrow. He was tempted to look over to Josephine and compliment her deception, but knew better to show a tell to one of the elite members of the Game. "Oh yes, we figured you would be more than interested in them."

"Well, of course. I was told they date all the way back to the Black Age. They deserve to be preserved pieces of Orlesian history." She nodded, carrying her tone in a loud volume. Briala let out a sigh from the front of the carriage.

"This way your radiance. Your grace." Josephine motioned towards the both of them for the main entrance of the Castle. They followed her and Cullen, the clanking of their soldiers armor behind them all.

Brady walked between Briala and Celene. He caught Briala staring up at him, causing a chuckle to erupt from his throat, "Can I do something for you, your grace?"

She smiled against her mask, "You could tell me why you actually brought us here?" Her voice was low enough for only Brady and Celene to hear.

Celene tipped her head upward and smirked, "I was wondering that also, Inquisitor. I thought if you were going to lure me with false relics, you must _really_ need me here for something."

Brady looked forward and ascended the staircase. His eyes turned to Briala, "You're good."

Briala pursed her lips and raised her nose, "I know."

They entered the main hall and followed Josephine and Cullen into Josephine's office. As the soldiers began to barrel in, Celene waved them off.

"Leave us." She commanded, and they nodded without argument.

When all five of them were finally alone, Brady cleared his throat. "As you have already put together, we haven't been completely honest with you."

Briala crossed her arms, "If that wasn't obvious already. What is the issue, Inquisitor?"

"Now, before I continue... I just wanted to let you know that you both look ravishing... I mean, wow."

Briala's ears began to turn a light pink, "Would you just say it?"

"The Wardens are staging a rebellion and we need your support." The words came out quick from his mouth.

Celene's face was still, "My support? Inquisitor, I just can't send troops away."

Cullen chimed in, "The Orlesian wardens are in on this too, Your Majesty. I don't believe it would be wise to not have your people there to keep everything in check."

Briala spoke up, "What do you mean?"

"The Inquisition has pledged support to the rebellion, your grace. Ferelden is expected to follow suit."

The exposed part of Celene's forehead crinkled towards her covered brows. Josephine took notice, "The Anderfels and Weisshaupt are not too far from Orlais' borders, and if rumors of the First Warden's ambitions are true, it could pose a risk for your empire, Your majesty."

"I would even advise allowing us to take the Marquise to Weisshaupt. She could supervise your forces." Cullen added, crossing his arms and keeping his tone light.

Celene looked over to Briala and saw her appeal to the idea- even through her mask. Briala felt her eyes and let out a thought, "If things go awry, I could pull our support."

Celene let out a sigh, "Even if I did agree, Inquisitor, the Anderfels are weeks away. It is a mystery to know what could happen while they march there."

"Well," Brady's eyes darted between Celene and Briala while his face supported a cocky smirk, "That's where the Eluvians come in." Celene and Briala shared a quick glance. "I'm going to assume you both know exactly what they are."

"Very fondly, actually." Briala tipped her head forward and shot him a smile, "You know the location of one?"

"In my garden, actually." Brady replied.

"Do you know how to activate it?" Briala asked, her eyes narrowing underneath her mask.

"Well, actually..." Brady scratched the back of his neck.

"I'm guessing you don't then?" Celene said, her icy eyes studying him, watching the sureness in his face disappear.

"No. I don't." He admitted.

"We could put your theory to the test." Briala mentioned to Celene, who still stood with disapproval.

"Bria," Celene said softly, "Is it even worth it?"

Briala looked to the Inquisitor, then to her Empress, "The inquisitor hasn't been wrong yet, your radiance."

With a short breath, Celene spoke, "May I speak to you alone, Inquisitor?"

He nodded, and dismissed his advisers. Briala shot her eyes at Celene, who simply nodded. Without words, Briala followed them outside of the office.

"Your majesty-"

She raised a hand, "Let me speak for a moment." With a short movement, she took off her mask in front of Brady. He noticed her high cheek bones and short wrinkles that presumably came from ruling the Empire. Her unexposed skin was a shade paler than the bottom of her face, causing her blue eyes to reflect against her cheeks. "Tell me, why are you really supporting the Wardens again?"

"It's the right thing to do." He answered, his back stiffening.

"And the real reason?" Her blonde brows pushed together.

"I- I'm not sure what you mean."

A sincere chuckle escaped her lips, "People like us have a lot of power behind us. It isn't rare for someone we consider close to pull our strings and make us do things we do not want to." She watched his face contort into deep thought, and almost smirked at the reaction. With her composure intact, she continued, "Sometimes you need to take a step back and make sure what you're doing is the exact 'the right thing to do.'"

"The First Warden could be a danger to us all, Celene." He almost believed himself.

"Tell me, did your Spymaster support this?" She prodded.

"I don't really see how that is your business, your radiance."

She let out another laugh, "I know what it's like to be in love with your spymaster. Maker, believe me on that one." She walked closer to him and rested a pale hand against his shoulder, "Remember their job is to lie, Inquisitor. They just might love you also, but they could just as easily influence you to achieve what they want."

He ignored her, "Do I have your support, Celene?"

With an exhale, she connected her eyes with his. "I suppose. I am in your debt still..." She placed her mask back against her face, "Consider us even." She turned away towards the door and tilted her head back to him. "Now, are you going to show me Skyhold or did I just take this trip to talk?"


	3. The King of Ferelden

Leliana noticed the change from rural farmland to the distinct buildings of the city. The trip took a few days, but they had breezed by like the wind. She was surprisingly happy with the company Brady had commanded to go with her, even though she detested the idea at first. She'd have to thank him whenever she saw him again, she thought.

Denerim changed little over the years. It was still the holy city she remembered, it's people cluttered in the marketplace and petty thieves completely prepared to pickpocket anyone they were able to. She could see the Palace grow closer as they rode deeper into the city. Bull was sleeping on the far end of the coach. Blackwall slouched in his seat, his arms crossed while his eyes took in the view.

When they were just outside of the palace, a burly guard stopped them. "What's your business?" His voice was rough.

Leliana peaked her head outside and greeted him with a gracious smile, "We are the Inquisition, ser. We have requested an audience with the King."

He narrowed his eyes, "A moment."

She nodded and watched him join two other royal guards near the gates. She saw him point to her. One of the guards leaned forward and then slapped the man's helmet, passing inaudible words to him.

The guard shook his head the entire time he walked back towards Leliana. "I'm sorry Sister Leliana, I had hardly recognized you."

"It's quite alright." She mused.

The guard gestured for them to enter the gates. Leliana fell back into her seat in the coach. The palace looked marvelous in the Denerim light. She was always astonished at Ferelden's natural charm- dogs and dirt included.

The coach stopped in front of the two story palace doors. She tapped Bull's chest, and he shot up. Blackwall let out a laugh.

"Calm down." Leliana grinned, "We're here."

"I am calm, red." He nodded, and jumped out of the coach. Blackwall and Leliana followed behind him.

"This way." A sentinel said. Two palace guards drew the doors open. The sentinel pointed down into a gigantic foyer for them to enter.

Iron Bull looked around with a slight awe in his eyes, "Do you see this stuff, Red? It must be worth a fortune."

Blackwall shared Iron Bull's interest, but kept himself in check. He particularly took interest in the vivid paintings of King Calenhad in his enchanted silver armor. Leliana had seen these things one too many times to be taken back by them. However, she always enjoyed seeing the Ferelden art and historical relics that cluttered the foyer.

She continued to stroll forward, Black and Bull treading one step behind at both of her flanks. Two guards were stationed at the doors of the throne room.

"Sister Leliana," one of the guards smiled, "King Alistair waits for you inside."

"Thank you." She grinned with warmth and slightly bowed her head. She looked to Blackwall and Iron Bull, "Perhaps you two should stay here."

Blackwall narrowed his eyes at her, "Is that your polite way of saying we'll embarrass you in front of your friend?"

Bull added, "I'm offended, Red. Really."

"You're not even wearing a shirt, Bull." She pointed out, making him look down at his bare chest with a proud grin.

"Point taken." He grinned at her. "Say no more, We'll just look at these pieces of art over here."

"And keep our hands in our pockets." Blackwall added in a mocking tone, his lips supporting a grin.

She shook her head and turned back to the guards. They opened the doors for her, and with a slight glance back to Iron Bull and Blackwall for sanity's sake, she entered the throne room.

She saw Alistair slouching down on his throne from the far side of the room. His head rested in one of his hands, supporting it upward. "Your Majesty." Leliana said aloud, her voice echoing through the room.

He perched up and smiled with squinting eyes, "Leliana."

She continued forward. When she was close enough, she bowed down to him.

"Your ambassador didn't share much details on why you needed to see me." Alistair shifted on his throne, "I'm just going to assume this isn't an assassination attempt." She allowed a smile to hold on her face, but her head bowed. He noticed and leaned forward, "I've seen that look before. Leliana, what is the matter?"

"I wish I was here on better circumstances, Alistair, But Damon has been imprisoned in Weisshaupt."

Alistair's face contorted, "Maker's breath, why?" He thought for a moment, then his eyes widened with realization, "Oh, he found it, didn't he? A cure?"

"He did. Though, the First Warden doesn't agree with a cure for the Calling." She explained, keeping her voice even despite the fact that Alistair was losing his composure with every word.

"That's madness. Why would anyone disagree with this blessing?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Some wardens, I will never understand. All about being martyrs and no fun. I bet they don't even like griffons, honestly."

"The Inquisitor is ready to secure both Damon and the cure... but he doesn't believe he can do it without both Orlais and Ferelden's support." She kept her voice even.

"Leliana," He gripped the ends of the arm rests of his throne, his knuckles turning a shade of white, "I need that cure. I can't lead a Kingdom with my impending doom right around the corner." He got up from his throne and descended the couple steps that led to Leliana. His eyes attached to hers, and she noticed the worry in his eyes. It was the same look she had seen him wear during the Landsmeet years ago, or when Morrigan tread too closely to him during the Blight.

"Some wardens are prepared to do whatever it takes to release Damon and take down the First Warden."

"Take him down?" He furrowed his brows, "Is it that bad in the Anderfels? I mean, sure- I get it. Take down the _evil_ First Warden and save the Order from itself." He closed one eye and tilted his head, "What do you need from me?"

"Well," She shifted her weight to the side and looked up to him, "Your support, for one. And your forces."

"Done." He clapped his hands together. "I wish I could come, honestly. Things have been stale here. I don't even think they've changed the cheese tray in the foyer for weeks."

"You could come if you really wanted to." She smiled, "It would be like old times."

"Don't tempt me, Leliana." He pursed his lips and shrugged, "Unfortunately, I have this whole King business to do here. I know- boring. But, I trust the Inquisition can handle it." He rested a hand on her shoulder, "Just be careful? Keep me updated as well." He shot her a small smile, "And try to visit more. Maybe bring the Inquisitor next time."

She pulled him into a hug, and he complied. "It was nice to see you, Alistair."

"I'll send my soldiers to Skyhold." He separated from her and kept a smile. "And tell Damon I said, 'you're welcome.'"

"Should I gloat to Morrigan on your behalf?" She said with a laugh.

"Is that even a question? Of course." He smiled, turning back and retaking his seat on the throne. "I'll talk to you soon, Leliana."

"Same to you, your majesty." She bowed again, and began to exit the throne room. The doors opened for her and she rejoined Blackwall and Iron Bull in the foyer. Iron Bull stood at a silver cheese tray, popping one after another into his mouth.

"That was quick." He said in between bites.

"I hope that isn't the old cheese tray Alistair mentioned." She said, looking at the tray with a slight disgust.

Iron Bull stopped for a moment, then shrugged, "Tastes fine to me."

She looked to him with a grin and shook her head, "Come on."

* * *

Briala sat across from Brady in Josephine's office. The fire in front of them cackled and cracked, the sound echoing through the silent room. The sun was setting in the glass stained windows, causing the light to evade the room more and more each second. He sat in the plush chair, gripping the arm rests and moving with restlessness.

Briala watched the fire while Brady's eyes ending up lingering on the Marquise. He couldn't quite figure her out. Celene was simple- for the most part. She was a politician overall, keeping her interests in front of most of the things in her life. But Briala was a different story. She had a sense of mystery- her intentions and priorities were never completely clear. Her mask was off, showing off her olive skin and slight freckles that were exhibited by the light from the fire. The flame danced against her green grey eyes.

"How long do you plan on staring at me, Inquisitor?" She asked, her eyes staying on the flame in front of them.

"I'm sorry, your Grace-" He coughed into his hand and leaned forward, "I just- don't really know what to make of you, honestly."

She turned her head and pitched him a slight smile, "I assume a lot of others feel that way, as well." She looked down between her knees and continued, "I'm curious to see what you have gathered, though."

"Well," He turned his body to her, leaning his back against one arm rest and kicking his feet up against the other, "You have a look to you- I don't know how to describe it, really... Like I could trust you." He narrowed his eyes, "But you're dangerous, as well. Like crossing you would only get me a slashed throat in my sleep."

She pursed her lips, "You know, Inquisitor, you'd fit well with the Orlesian nobility. You could put their attempts at playing the Game to shame."

He chuckled, "I believe I've been there and done that, your Grace."

"I suppose that charm is exactly what your spymaster sees in you." She raised her head and placed her nose in the air, her eyes staying on him.

He raised a brow, "Is that your attempt at getting information out of me?"

"No. But you did just confirm my suspicion."

"We're not-"

She interrupted with a small laugh, "I'm sure."

He threw his head back and looked to the ceiling, "Your Grace, I assure you, Leliana and I are associates, nothing more." He brought his eyes back to her, "At any rate, you don't see me bringing up the Empress."

"That's because you already know, Inquisitor. Celene and I are hardly a secret anymore- it would be pointless." There was a cockiness in her voice that he didn't overlook. "And besides, don't think I haven't forgotten that duel with the chevalier at the soiree a month ago. Truly, if that wasn't a blatant giveaway to the entire court, you must be daft."

He looked down and mumbled, "Well, that's a little harsh."

She shot him a smirk, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Inquisitor."

"You didn't-" He stopped and sighed, brushing his stubble with his hand. He let out a soft chuckle, "Enough out of you."

Briala turned her attention back to the fire. The room had grown dark with the absence of the sun now upon Skyhold. Brady leaned back against the arm rest, his head dangling back.

The office door opened, and Josephine entered. Their attention attracted towards her and she looked to both of them. "Celene's soldiers have arrived, Inquisitor." She turned to Briala, "The elves you requested came with them, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Ambassador." Briala nodded with a smile. She straightened out her emerald dress and stood up. "Now, I believe it's about time you show me this Eluvian, Inquisitor."

He groaned, and slowly picked his body up from the chair. "Follow me."

He exited the office and worked his way through the busy main hall. Briala followed at his side. They maneuvered through the crowd and he opened the door that led to the garden and let her through first.

In contrast, the garden was calm. Besides a few sisters chanting, there was barely a sound. He pressed forward and opened a door to the room that held the Eluvian. They both entered and looked to the large mirror that towered over them at the back of the room.

"Alright," He crossed his arms and looked over to Briala. "This is it."

She tossed a glare over to him, "Is it now?"

He threw his head back and then brought his attention to the eluvian. "Uncalled for."

Briala couldn't help but allow a small chuckle to escape her lips. "With Celene's troops arriving, we could get started on getting to Weisshaupt if you'd like."

"Leliana hasn't returned with the Ferelden soldiers yet." Brady pointed out, "How would she get to Weisshaupt?"

"Oh, don't worry, Inquisitor. A few elves and I will come back for them and make sure they get there safely. Then, we can assault the fortress and end all of this."

"You suggest we leave today then?" He cocked an eyebrow at the Marquise.

"I do. Any later is just wasted time." She connected her emerald eyes on his. "It's your decision, however."

"I'll tell Cullen to ready the troops for departure in the morning. We could use some sleep before we head through this... thing." He turned and walked back to the garden, leaving Briala with the Eluvian.


	4. The Warden, The Champion, The Herald

_Damon watched Kieran hang on every word he spoke. He spun a tale of dragons and demons wrecking havoc on enchanted lands, and the heroes who protected the innocent people from their rage._

_"Is that what you did, father?" Kieran asked, tilting his head to the side and allowing his bottom lip to purse slightly._

_"Your mother and I have done a lot of things, Pup." Damon grinned._

_"Demons weren't much of a problem. Dragons, however..." Morrigan's voice chimed in like the wind. Damon turned to see her leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed._

_Damon looked back to Kieran, "Don't listen to your mother, Dragons aren't scary."_

_"They're kinda scary," Kieran replied._

_"'Tis time for bed, little man." Morrigan said with a stern edge in her voice._

_Damon stood up, "You should listen to your mother, Pup. It is getting late."_

_Kieran pouted for but a moment and then headed for his room after bidding his parents a goodnight._

_Once his bedroom door closed, Damon turned towards Morrigan with a soft grin, "Hello, love."_

_"My warden," She pulled on a grin, and took long strides over to him. Her hands found his shoulders as she ran her fingers down his chest and rested her lips at his ear, "I believe it is time for us to retire to the bedroom as well, no?" Her sweet breath nipped at his ear, causing a tingle down his neck._

_He turned his head and looked at her with his steely grey eyes. Her vibrant golden irises were enough to make his body completely render to her control. "As you wish." He breathed softly._

"To your feet, Warden!" A bulky voice called out. It echoed through every cell, including Damon's. He snapped away from his daydreaming at the sound.

His back was against the damp wall as his body felt too heavy to even attempt to stand.

"Are you daft?" The voice shouted again from the only glimmer of light that entered room besides that few lit candles. The heavy feet of the shouting voice grew closer to Damon.

Damon simply sighed; keeping his eyes to the adjacent wall, "Is that an order, Warden Adler, or are you just being an ass?"

Adler spat as he approached Damon's cell, "It's an order, 'commander'. I'm here to deliver your bread ration." He slipped his armored hand through the bars and dropped the piece of bread on the floor, causing an echoing smash to ripple through the cell.

Damon sneered, almost ready to adopt the mannerisms of his ten year old son. He refused to move- looking from the bread to Warden Adler, then back to the wall with a cocky smirk. "I'll see you tomorrow, puppet."

"Watch your tone, Warden." Adler pointed at him. His face distorted into twirls of disgust. "Keep it up and we'll just send your ashes to pretty little wife."

Damon scoffed and laughed boisterously. He shot his narrowed eyes at Adler, "Maker's breath, you could try."

Adler stared at Damon with begrudging eyes. Without a word, he turned away and headed out of the dungeon. "Maybe Oghren could teach you a thing or two of respect."

Damon hid his smirk beneath the darkness of the room, and let out a cool breath when the dungeon door closed.

He looked to the golden ring on his finger. He could feel her energy through it. She wasn't far from him, which caused a wave of worry in his chest. He knew Morrigan would try something, and he had no doubts it would be an elaborate plan that involved points that only her wit could manage. He even trusted she would succeed, but the sheer thought of her getting hurt in the process made his body ache and put weight on his chest.

"Maker, Morrigan..." He mumbled, twisting the enchanted ring on his finger, "What are you doing?"

* * *

Hawke walked the rebel camp alone, watching the wardens sit by the fire and drink their conscription ale. Isabela was by the fire with Varric, both of them playing off each other, telling a ridiculous tale about their adventures in Kirkwall. Carver sat near the wardens, showing a rare smile on his face while the wardens laughed at the story Varric was spinning. She saw Merrill walk up with the blonde haired elf, Zevran, at her side. The wardens nodded as she walked by, raising their bottles to her with slight smiles. She simply smiled back and returned a nod.

Varric caught the sight of her and gestured for her to come over, "C'mon Hawke, join us. We could get a game of Wicked Grace going."

"I'm not playing if Hawke is," Carver protested. "I'm tired of losing coin to my sister."

"Oh, lighten up, Junior." Varric quipped.

"Very tempting," She smiled at her companions, "But it's about time I get to my tent."

"Suit yourself," Isabela added, grabbing a bottle from one of the warden's hands and taking a slug of it with quickness, "I guess we'll be getting drunk without you."

Her head felt heavy on her shoulders and her body yearned for any type of rest. "Tomorrow night, I'll wipe the floor with you all." She barbed, and began to head for her tent. She could hear them scoff behind her with playful notes in their voices. Her feet continued along, the only light being the moon above her. She couldn't remember how long she had been in this maker-forsaken area, but she had decided it had been far too long yesterday.

"Hawke?" A voice called out from a few paces behind her.

She turned around, "Yes, Morrigan?"

"I would like to discuss something, if you do not mind." Morrigan said, her voice carried like a wind chime.

"Of course."

Morrigan tilted her head and motioned for Hawke to follow. She complied, following Morrigan to an area out of reach of any ears.

"What is it?" Hawke asked, "Wait, let me guess. Are the voices in your head giving us valuable information? Perhaps a recipe on how to make a better charred rabbit for dinner."

"No," Morrigan let out a sigh. "The warden isn't fairing too well."

"I'm going to assume Weisshaupt dungeons isn't the vacation they claim it is." Hawke crossed her arms.

Morrigan shook her head, "He's faltering. I can feel it." She looked to a ring and twisted it in circles around her finger.

Hawke's brows inched towards the middle of her face, "Then, what do you suggest?"

"I-" Morrigan stopped herself, her face distorted from a straight expression to one of worry, "Whatever we must do, we must do it quickly."

Hawke placed a cool hand on Morrigan's arm, "We'll get him, alright?" She gave her a look full of sympathy, "You have my word with that."

"You do not understand," Morrigan slinked away from Hawke, causing her to retract her hand. "I cannot stand by idly any longer."

"This whole 'worry' thing with you is new to me," Hawke commented, pursing her lips to the side, "You're going to have to give me a moment to gauge whether you're the type to, i don't know, assault Weisshaupt as a dragon." Hawke looked up at the thought, "Though, that would be great."

Morrigan scoffed, "You- are impossible." She crossed her arms, "If you plan on doing absolutely nothing-"

"Oh, I have a plan." Hawke argued, "You did your part by getting the Inquisition's aid. Just relax, Morrigan. The Inquisition should be here any day now. That's when we'll get him."

Morrigan huffed a labored breath from her chest, "It's been a week and-" She caught herself and slouched her shoulders in the slightest, "Very well, Champion." She turned away, but then redirected her attention back to Hawke for a moment, "You better be right."

Hawke watched her walk away, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She understood her concern, but knew from experience an unprepared attack would be unsuccessful every time. She felt a weight on her chest, a familiar one. Responsibility always found it's way onto Hawke, whether it was the protection of Kirkwall or deciding to help the Inquisition- even the rebellion on Weisshaupt seemed to weigh on her. She wondered when it would all break her, but she was determined to never find out.

At least the night was calm, she thought.

The walk to her tent felt too long for her taste, every step feeling like a mile in her tired body. She could see a silhouette of a prone body in her tent against a small light that illuminated inside of it. She found herself smiling.

She pulled back the tent and saw him reading underneath the light.

"Finally, love. I didn't think you were ever coming to bed." He didn't look up from his book.

"Anders." She said softly, practically collapsing next to him. "Are you really reading _Hard in Hightown _again?"

"I suppose I am." Anders chuckled and looked to her at his side. She was laying on her back and looking to the top of the tent with her blue eyes dulled by her lack of sleep. He tossed his book to the back of the tent, "You need rest."

Hawke closed her eyes tightly, "No," She looked over to him, "I need a plan."

* * *

Days in the crossroads put a constant strain in the back of Brady's skull. He was fascinated by all of it- the elvhen people were remarkable to him, creating a highway of mirrors to get places was ingenious. Still, it didn't make it easier to trudge through the portals.

Walking through the crossroads was taxing- like carrying an extra one hundred pounds on your back. For Briala and her elves, however, they walked with ease- their bodies looking as though they were a mile away from Brady and the rest of the soldiers.

"This is torturous." Cullen had said, walking by the inquisitor's side. "It's aggravating how they are unaffected while we walk with lead in our shoes."

"C'mon, Commander," Brady grinned, "It's not all bad."

"Briala!" Cullen called out, a vein showing up on his forehead, "How much longer?"

She turned, but Brady could only make out her figure. Soon, though, she was by their side. "The portal is right ahead."

"Thank the maker." Cullen murmured, and continued to press on.

In the distance, there was a collection of mirrors. Some were cracked, while others only held the frame. Brady looked to them with sympathy, only thinking of the waste of brilliant magic a broken Eluvian was.

"This is it." Briala pointed.

It looked just as an ordinary mirror, even showing Brady and Briala's reflection in it. Briala ran her hand over the surface, and turned away to a pedestal where a deep red ruby sat.

"Assuming I know Morrigan," Briala touched the ruby, "she'll have a mirror ready for your arrival."

"Alright, no time to waste." Brady said with haste in his voice. He couldn't bear the headache this place brought anymore. Even if he ended up in the middle of the Hissing Wastes, he would have preferred it to the stagnant atmosphere of the crossroads. "Do what you must."

Briala murmured something inaudible, and the mirrored roared to life with colors of white and purple circulating on it's surface.

"After you, Inquisitor." She said with a slight smile.

Brady took a small breath, and walked through the mirror.

After a bright light that hit his eyes like a pommel to the head, he walked through into what looked of a burned down barn. The wood was broken and charred, leaving a grey blur around the area. The air was full of refreshment and life as green vines curled around the old wood.

"Well, well," A familiar voice spoke, "What have we here?"

"Morrigan," His breathing was labored. "You might want to take a step back."


	5. The First Warden

Brady walked the rebel camp. If he didn't know better, he would have mistaken the area for an outpost rather than a makeshift base.

"Pardon me, Inquisitor." A familiar voice swam through his ear and tapped him on the shoulder. "Long time, no see."

Brady turned and greeted the voice with a short smile, "Hawke. Always a pleasure."

Hawke gestured to continuing walking, and Brady complied, walking at her side. "There's a few people who have been eager to meet you since the whole 'Herald of Andraste' bit." She led him towards a rather large group of people, all their attention turned down to a map on a table.

Before Hawke could gather their attention, Brady noticed Varric and called out to him

Varric turned and held a smile, "Inquisitor. It's about time you came to help us out." The rest of the company around Varric looked to Brady. Their eyes were both in awe with a slight curiosity filling their gazes. "I assume Hawke wanted to introduce you to the supporting characters."

"Supporting? There's a whole chapter of how I came back with the relic." Isabela called out. She crossed her arms- causing the jewelry on her neck to chime- and tipped out her hip to the side.

"Rivaini, please. Not in front of my new friend." Varric chuckled, grasping Brady's forearm and leading him towards the table.

Hawke stood at Brady's side and directed her eyes around the table. "This is Isabela."

"Admiral Isabela, Hawke." Isabela corrected, and then hitched a wicked smirk on her face. "So, you're the inquisitor?" She leaned forward on the table, "I don't suppose there's a Mrs. Herald of Andraste, right?"

Brady opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by another introduction. "And this is my brother, Carver."

Carver held out his hand to Brady, "It's great to meet you, Your worship. Though, I do wish it were under better circumstances."

Brady shook his hand, "A pleasure, Carver." He glanced his eyes to Carver's armor and then brought them back up to his eyes, "You're a Grey Warden?"

Carver's hand dropped to his side as he nodded, "Warden Stroud saved my life during an expedition to the deep roads." His voice began to droop, "It's a shame what happened to him. Good man."

"I assure you, Carver," Brady let a stern look graze his face, "Warden Stroud died a hero."

"Hawke had told me what happened," He glanced over to his sister, "And I hate to be happy about this, but I'm glad you managed to save my sister, Inquisitor."

Brady looked over to Hawke and pulled on a grin, "And now we're staging a rebellion."

"Admit it," Hawke pursed her lips, "You've been dying to hang out with my friends for a change."

Brady squinted his eyes at her, "Debatable."

The sound of heavy feet hit against the ground as the accompanying voice called out to Hawke. Hawke began to walk over to a tall man with shoulder length blonde hair that was walking towards them.

"Inquisitor," Varric mumbled to Brady, "Whatever you do, just don't hit Blondie in the face when you see him."

"What are you talking about?" Brady furrowed his brows down at Varric, who pointed for him to redirect his attention.

The man and Hawke walked together with familiarity. His hand was at her hip, and Brady clenched his fists when it had clicked in his mind.

"Inquisitor," Hawke's voice shook in the slightest, "I'd like you to also meet Anders."

Anders smiled weakly and held out his hand, "Inquisitor, I have only heard amazing things of you."

Brady didn't meet his hand. His eyes studied Anders, "I wish I could say the same."

Everyone grew silent as an awkward air filled around the area around them. Anders retracted his hand and sighed, "That reaction is expected."

Hawke stood still for a moment, then swung her head around. Her eyes scanned the area. "Where's Merrill?"

"Zevran whisked her away to teach her how to use a knife, last time I checked." Varric crossed his arms.

"Maker's breath, that could mean two things with Zevran." Hawke placed her hand over her forehead and tilted back with a sigh.

Isabela let out a breath, "I'll go get her before something happens." She tapped on the table and walked towards the cluster of well put together tents.

Brady kept his eyes on Anders, and Hawke took notice. She took a step in front of Anders and placed herself between them. "Inquisitor," Her voice rang like a song. She managed to grab Brady's attention and watched him as his shoulders relaxed. "This isn't going to be a problem-"

Anders placed a hand on Hawke's shoulder and slid it down her arm with a warm reassurance in his touch, "Let me, love." Anders took a step towards Brady and kept an even tone, "I- can't imagine what you truly think of me, Inquisitor. But I assure you, I won't cause any trouble."

"I can promise your tent won't spontaneously explode while you're here, Inquisitor." Hawke chimed in.

Anders groaned and flung his head around to Hawke with a murmur, "Not. Helping." Hawke shrugged, and allowed Anders to continue. "You have to believe me when I say I'm here for both Hawke and to help my friend... nothing more."

Brady stood up straight. His frame overshadowed both Hawke and Anders. His voice swelled with natural authority, "I was in Ostwick when you blew up Kirkwall's Chantry. You'd be surprised how quick the rebellion came to us." Both Hawke and Anders' eyes were attentive on Brady's words. "I had family on both sides. You cannot imagine the grief it put us all through." Brady shook his head as his chin slouched down. "I believe strongly that the mages deserve their freedom from the Circle, but I will always believe there could have been a more peaceful way to do it." He raised his head and brought his eyes to Anders, "Without the violence of the rebellion, there would have been no conclave, and Justinia would still be breathing."

Anders dropped his head, "I understand your reasons to dislike me, Inquisitor."

"My personal feelings towards you mean nothing, Anders. I'm here to bring down the First Warden and if you're an ally to that cause- that is all that matters."

"I am." He answered.

"Well, now that that is settled..." Hawke tapped on Anders' chest and motioned for the Inquisitor to look down at the wooden table, "It's time to find away to get the Warden out of that cell."

"I believe I can help with that." Briala walked up, that light patter of her feet joining them at the table.

"Back already?" Brady replied, "Where are the Ferelden soldiers?"

"Behind me." Leliana's voice chimed a few paces away.

He looked over her, and saw the horde of soldiers joining the rest of the camp. When his eyes connected with hers, an uninvited grin came across his face. She smiled like a secret, and gestured her eyes at Briala. He nodded and cleared his throat, "I'm sure the trip went well?"

"Of course," Briala dipped her head forward with a grin, "Though, the Ferelden soldiers did complain a lot less."

Leliana took a place at his side and stood close to him. It took every ounce of will in him not to beam a smile at her presense, and tried to maintain his composure as much as possible. She looked up at him with warm eyes, then redirected her attention to the company around them. She took notice of the familiar blonde haired man beside her and narrowed her eyes, her fiery brows almost meeting in the middle, "Maker's breath, what are you doing here?"

Hawke looked to Leliana with a slight nervousness rushing through her body. "Ah, right. Introductions are always interesting."

"Sister Leliana," Anders steadied his hands in front of him, "I'm only here to help."

"Help?" She scoffed, "I've seen what your 'help' to the mage rebellion did."

"I promise you, as I said to the Inquisitor," He kept his voice soft. "My friend is rotting in a cell right now, and regardless of your opinion, Sister, I'm going to do what I can to get him out."

Leliana opened her mouth to retort a barb, but was stopped by a sharp look from Brady.

"You said something of a plan, Briala?" Hawke chimed in, directing every one else's attention to a different problem as quickly as she could.

"The Empress gave me layouts of the fortress," She walked towards the table and pulled out a large piece of parchment. "They may be a bit dated."

"I doubt the place has changed much," Hawke looked over the layout, "When I was there, it still looked ancient."

Brady peered over Hawke's shoulder along with Leliana. She placed a finger against the parchment, "That is where the dungeon is."

His eyes scanned the layout, "And that looks like an alternate entrance."

"Most likely used as an escape route against an overwhelming attack." Briala added.

"We could send a small group to infiltrate and extract the Warden." Hawke suggested.

"With support not too far away in case things get dicey," Cullen walked up alongside Morrigan. "I wasn't listening, I sware."

"Cullen, you lead the troops." Brady turned to him, "And Morrigan-"

"I am coming with you, Inquisitor." Morrigan walked to him with her back straight.

Leliana's brows pushed together, "Is that wise?"

Morrigan tipped her head, "I do not see why not." Her eyes connected with the Inquisitor's, "Do you?"

Leliana brought her eyes to Brady, her nose scrunching up in the slightest. He saw her expression an cocked an eyebrow, "Alright," He opened his stance, "Leliana, Morrigan, Briala, and I will get the Warden from Weisshaupt at nightfall. Cullen and Hawke will be with the troops."

Morrigan grinned with satisfaction, "Thank you, Inquisitor."

"Inquisitor, I have a better idea." Briala intertwined her fingers in front of her and tipped her head to the side. He looked to her and gave her a sign to continue. "Your ambassador and I got in touch with the First Warden... and a few nobles from the Anderfels. Don't ask how, but much credit goes to your ambassador. We could easily have you and Hawke meet with him and distract him while we extract the Hero of Ferelden."

"I already met the man," Hawke replied, pointing out her hip, "He's conservative, to say the least."

"So, politics, then?" Brady sighed and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "This should be fun."

Hawke turned to him with a chuckle, "I bet he misses me."

"Just keep him busy, Inquisitor." Leliana brought her eyes to him with a calm in her stare. "We can handle the rest."

Brady softened against her eyes and bowed his head, "Very well. We'll play nice while you infiltrate the fortress." He stopped for a moment, "Just remember this place is a _fortress._ Like, Wardens everywhere." He turned to Briala, "Traps, maybe."

"Spiders." Hawke added, "Huge spiders."

Leliana laughed, "I've snuck into worse places, believe me."

Brady cocked his eyebrow with a grin. She held her smile for a moment, then reared back to a straight expression.

Morrigan exhaled, "I assume I will have to inform the dwarf, just in case."

"Varric?" Brady questioned.

She shook her head with a small grin. "No, Oghren."

He tipped his head up and watched everyone disperse away from the table in different directions. Hawke and Leliana stayed near.

Hawke looked up to Brady with a slight smirk, "You know this is going to end terribly for us."

"Of course it is," He grinned brightly.

With a short chuckle to his comment, she followed Anders away. He watched them walk into the distance for a moment, then looked down to Leliana at his side. Her mind seemed miles away, but despite that fact, the air around him felt a little warmer with her around.

"He doesn't look as monsterous as they all portray him to be." Brady let out a thought.

Leliana zoned in her attention and replied, "That's what makes him dangerous, Inquisitor." She brought her eyes to him with a stern look that caused him to feel a shiver down his spine.

"For what it's worth," He turned his body to her with a smirk, "You look pretty good for just getting out of the crossroads."

Her face lightened at the sound of his soft tone, then scrunched up, "I feel disgusting. We past through so many crypts, I must reek of ancient elven corpses." She turned and began to walk away.

He cocked an eyebrow, "Where are you going?"

She stopped her stride and threw him a look over her shoulder, "There's a basin not too far from here. I'd like to freshen up." Her accent cast a sultry sound to her words, "Grab my soaps and bathe. Maybe relax before we have to go to Weisshaupt."

"Good idea." He nodded, and began to turn away.

Before he could, she placed a michevious grin on her lips, "You're coming with me." Her coy eyes were almost unsatiably desirable when accompanied by her smile. He watched her sway her hips with obvious intent in every strut.

He blinked, then pulled at a sly smile, "Better idea."

* * *

"You're quiet." Oghren looked to Damon. He was slumped against the damp dungeon wall. Damon twisted the golden ring on his finger. His dark grey eyes matched the gloom that harbored in the cell.

Damon brought his head up to see Oghren- who was casually sitting in a chair facing his cell. He held a open bottle in one hand and rested the other against the chair. "There's not much to say anymore."

Oghren's eyes drooped at the sound of Damon's defeated voice. He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. "The witch asked me to pass you a message."

Damon couldn't help but grin. "What was it?"

"Warden, you and your lady really need to communicate better. I can't remember all of the nugwash that she passes to me."

"Oghren, can we not forget that I'm in a cage?"

Oghren began to speak, but stopped himself, making his mouth fall agape. Damon rolled his eyes and slouched back up against the wall. He pulled at his longer than usual brown locks with a groan. With a slug from his bottle, Oghren spoke up, "Something of The Inquisition... inquisitor. Ah, forget it. It's gone."

"What would I do without you?" Damon let out. He closed his eyes and saw Morrigan, but the memory of what she looked like was becoming fuzzy in his mind. When he was on the road, he praised his strength and how he was able to make due without her and Kieran for so long. In this cell, however, his threshold faltered. He missed them both now more than ever, and hung onto every cryptic and possibly incorrect message Oghren was able to relay.

"Dead, probably." Oghren said with a straight tone. "These sodding fools really think I'm on their side, though... No need to thank me."

"You didn't have to punch me in front of Adler to prove that, Oghren."

"You know, Warden? This little predicament you got yourself in is ruining my home life." Oghren pointed, then belched.

Damon managed a laugh, "Does Felsi not approve of your late nights with me?"

"No, she doesn't." Oghren said straight. He leaned back into his chair and rocked slowly.

"Well," Damon stood up and walked over to the bars of the cell. He leaned on them, balling the bars in his palm. "When you're alive to watch your child become something. tell her I said, 'you're welcome.'"

"Oh, don't give me that." Oghren threw his hand and waved him away, "You'll be there to hear all the 'thank you's'. Maybe a few wenches might take interest." He bellowed his signature laugh that resembled small grunts in his chest.

* * *

The cloudy sky caused an ominous view of the fortress. Brady and Hawke approached it with their mounts. It was a magnificent sight- the fortress omitted an ancient tone, while looking well enough to endure an assault without an issue.

They met the gate and Brady brought his stallion to a halt. Hawke followed by pulling her white mare to stop in it's tracks.

"Briala said they would be expecting us." Brady said, staring at the iron gate.

"I expected a welcoming party, honestly." Hawke smirked.

The gate began to raise as a single warden came through. "You must be the inquisitor." He said, keeping his stance tall.

"I am." Brady replied. "And you are?"

"Warden Adler." Adler crossed his arms, causing his armor to rattle. "Dismount, and follow me."

They did as they were told, tying up there horses promptly and following him through the gate. With a nod, he led them through the courtyard. It was cluttered with unclaimed weapons and beaten practice dummies. A few wardens stood in the courtyard, watching Brady and Hawke with every footstep they made.

Brady kept his hand on the hilt of his blade that rested in it's sheath on his belt. He studied every warden with narrowed eyes, taking in what he could see of the fortress and keeping a mental note in case anything went awry, in which he could almost gaurentee from his past experiences everywhere.

There was a towering door that looked indomintable. Adler placed three knocks on it, causing the sound to echo through the entire courtyard. It opened almost instanly, exposing a wide enterance full of wardens standing at gaurd against the decorated walls. Tall paintings cluttered the walls with plaques underneath, indicating what each portrait represented.

"The First Warden has been expecting you for some time." Adler's tone was unsettling, sounding like sour notes on a flute. Hawke looked to Brady, who nodded at her gaze to stay alert at all costs.

After winding corridors and staircases, Adler opened the door to show an office, and the First Warden sat at a grand mahogony desk, flanked by two large wardens standing at attention.

The First Warden looked up from his desk, "Inquisitor, I finally get to meet you." His voice was grizzled and uneasy on the the ears. His accent was rough, and unlike anything Brady has ever heard before. "And you brought Serah Hawke. What excellent company you keep."

"First Warden Larson," Hawke spoke up, "I knew you would miss me."

Larson ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair and pulled on his beard. With a look from his black eyes, he smiled. "You could say that." He stood up from his plush chair and walked over to them. His wardens followed behind him, continuing to gaurd both of his sides. He took a stand in front of them. Larson came up to Brady's eye level, but had height over Hawke.

"I'd like to personally thank you for allowing my wardens to stay in Orlais." He put his hands behind his back, "The Corypheus mess was a black mark on our history. I'm glad you took care of it."

"You're welcome, First Warden." Brady replied, bowing his head.

"Well," Larson clapped his hands together, "I'm sure we could talk over a tour, no?"

"Weisshaupt is wonderful," Brady said, "But I'm not here for a tour, ser."

"Then, why are you here?" Larson questioned, furrowing his thick brow, showing the wrinkles of age on his forehead and at the sides of his eyes.

"To- Discuss an alliance, of course." He smiled at himself. Hawke shot him a cocked brow and with a smirk, he continued. "The Grey Wardens are Thedas' most prized warriors. A formal alignment with the First Warden would be valuable to my Inquisition."

"What an offer, Inquisitor." Larson slipped between Hawke and Brady and went through the door. "Perhaps I could test your loyalty to the Wardens promptly."

The two wardens at his side wrapped their hands around Hawke's arms. She struggled against them, wriggling and pulling away with desperation.

Brady drew his sword and held it in front of him, taking a defensive position in front of the First Warden. "What are you doing?"

"Hawke is... an issue." Larson said with a straight tone. "She knows too much, Inquisitor."

"Are you mad?" Hawke spat, gritting her teeth at him.

"Quite the contrary, Hawke." Larson brought his black eyes to her with a sinister smile. "The wardens pride themselves on accepting recruits from around the spectrum. Especially templars and mages, who may know a thing or two about the Rite of Tranquility."

Fear grew in Hawke's eyes, "No."

"What do you say, Inquisitor?" Larson grinned at him, "Our loyalty for Hawke?"

Hawke looked at Brady, and he stared back, a gut wrenching feeling in his stomach at the sight of her frieghtened eyes.

Other wardens began to flood the room, surrounding them with every intent to kill them both. Brady gathered he was outnumbered ten to one, but he has had worse odds in the past.

The First Warden walked to the door and began to exit, "I'm going to take your answer to be a 'no'." He threw a smile at Brady and directed his words to his wardens, "Try not to make a mess."

He shut the door, and every warden in the room drew their blades. "Any ideas?" Brady shouted to Hawke, keeping his eyes on his potential attackers.

"Well, just the one." She let out, and fire began to ignite her fingers. She shot her captors both in the face with a weak ball of fire, causing them to stumble back grasping at their faces. Hawke drew her staff from her back and casted a cone of cold on a great deal of the wardens.

They began to attack them both. Brady deflected shots from two wardens while Hawke continued to shoot fire from her staff at them.

Brady cut his sword clean through a warden's neck. He collapsed in front of him gripping at his neck. The other warden tried to strike against Brady's shoulder, but with a quick block, he staggered back and attempted to regain his footing.

"Your back!" Hawke shouted, still keeping her attention on the attackers.

Brady took a second too long to turn, and found two daggers from a rogue warden into his back. His armor kept most of the blade away from his skin, but he could feel the tips leaving bloody indents into his back. He cringed, but then turned with haste, opening the wounds but also giving him the oppertunity to punch the rogue in the face and digging his silverite blade into the Warden's torso.

Hawke cast blizzard and placed a protective barrier for Brady and herself. He took a deep breath and watched the rest of the wardens freeze and shatter.

"Are you alright?" Brady asked between exhausted breaths.

Hawke saw the blood from his back start to drip from his armor. "Are you?"

He looked behind and let out a sigh, "I don't suppose you know any healing spells?"


	6. Let's get out of here, shall we?

"You have not taken your eyes off of me, Leliana." Morrigan stated while following Briala through the darkened caves. The only thing lighting their way was the veilfire that Morrigan held in her hand.

Leliana turned her eyes forward while Morrigan turned her head to look to the spymaster, the veilfire dancing against her face; the flame ignited her golden eyes with an eerie aura. "I am entitled to my suspicion, no?"

Morrigan let a boisterous laugh escape from her chest. "Do you truly think this is all a trick?"

Leliana furrowed her brows, "I know enough about you to wonder if there is an ulterior motive to this." She brought her eyes to Morrigan, "You wanting to come along makes sense for only a single reason. But, anybody back at the camp would've have been capable to also save Damon. So, why insist?"

"If you want something done correctly..." Morrigan said, shooting Leliana a cocky expression.

Leliana rolled her eyes and pushed ahead. She watched Briala skillfully scout in front of them, finding traps and disabling every single one with ease.

"It shouldn't be much longer," Briala told them. "The warden crests painted on the walls suggest that we're close to Weisshaupt."

They continued down the path, slaying lesser spiders that would occasionally crawl down from the walls and insist on keeping their caves for them and them alone. After a few moments that felt like an eternity in the damp cave, they stumbled across a door. Debris covered the area in front of it.

"A cave in?" Leliana assumed.

"Tis most likely to have happened many years ago." Morrigan added, tipping the veilfire towards it.

"Could you handle it, Morrigan?" Briala suggested.

Morrigan nodded, and handed the veilfire to Leliana, "Do not drop it, spymaster." After a sigh from Leliana, Morrigan put her hands in front of her. They shined with a florescent blue as she manipulated the rubble away.

"If these maps were correct, this door should lead us straight into the dungeon. " Briala said as she proceeded to the door.

"Let us hope you are correct." Morrigan said, following Briala up and through the door.

The door led to a staircase that was lit by torches that played on the stone walls. They descended down with caution, their weapons drawn. Briala was still at point, while Leliana and Morrigan were at her flanks.

When they reached the bottom, Briala peeked her head from the corner with her bow drawn. She could see a dwarven man in a rocked back chair. A small snore echoed against the stone.

"There is a warden on guard about fifteen paces ahead." Briala whispered to her companions.

Leliana looked to Morrigan, "Do you hear that?"

"It's Oghren." Morrigan tipped her head up, "If only I did not remember the sound of that dwarf sleeping so fondly."

Leliana held back a chuckle, and moved ahead. They walked up to Oghren with quiet steps. Briala tapped him, and he fell back in his chair.

"Ancestors!" Oghren cursed.

The Warden's groggy voice came from his adjacent cell, "Oghren, are you-?" When his eyes adjusted, his mouth refused to voice any more words. He saw the scene in front of him and was struck by a remarkable relief.

"My love," Morrigan breathed. "You are alright."

"Morrigan, I-" He stood up and walked towards the bars, "I knew you would come." A small grin peeked onto his face.

"Warden, we need to get you out of here." Briala stated, and walked up to the bars. She fiddled with the lock and broke the cell door open.

He pushed through the threshold and wrapped Morrigan into his arms.

She pulled her head away from his chest, "We must leave this place."

He nodded, and looked to Oghren, "It looks like this is the time for you to defect."

Oghren was on the floor, still recovering from his rude awakening. He looked to Damon and shook his head from side to side, "Yeah, yeah. Well, what are we waiting for?"

Leliana looked to Damon and let out a thought, "Have you heard of the Inquisitor being here?" She turned to Oghren, "Or the Champion?"

"I don't know if you noticed, sister, but we were taking our afternoon nap." Oghren said, then let out his signature chuckle.

She sighed, "I hope they're alright."

"I'm sure they'll be fine." Briala looked to her, and grinned with reassurance.

Morrigan separated from Damon and headed for the exit, "Then, let us be off."

* * *

Hawke and Brady sprinted through one of the many corridors.

"Where did that bastard go?" Hawke exhaled between exhausted breaths.

Brady winced and stretched his back, and then looked to Hawke. "I don't know, but be on guard- I would put one hundred sovereigns on other wardens joining us soon."

"Your wound is still open," Hawke walked up to him and ripped down his visible undershirt. He watched her with confusion riddling his face. She bit down on her bottom lip and pushed his shoulder away. "That's not supposed to happen. I healed you in that office. You shouldn't be..."

"I know," Brady rotated his shoulders, "The dagger must have been enchanted." He gave her a weak grin and leaned forward with a laugh, "I'm sure when it wears off, I'll be alright."

Hawke gave him a sideways stare and shook her head. "Whatever the case, we need to get out of here."

"I agree," He looked down the hallway and back at Hawke. "But, are we certain our friends got out with the warden?"

"No, we aren't." Hawke sighed, "But, we aren't the position right now to find out. We did our part."

Brady looked down for a moment, then nodded his head in agreement.

They started down the hallway with their weapons drawn. They kept a quiet step to their feet at the best of their ability, but they were no rogues.

The clanking of armor down an adjacent hallway alarmed them. They clung their bodies to the wall.

"That hallway leads to the courtyard," Brady whispered. "We could fight through them."

Hawke peaked at the four wardens coming down the hallway, "That could tip off others. I'm not really trying to fight the entire fortress's forces."

"Scared?" Brady mocked with a cocky smile.

Hawke raised an eyebrow, "Mockery, coming from the one who is bleeding all over the wall?"

Brady narrowed his eyes and peeked his head into the hallway. The wardens drew closer, and he readied his blade. Hawke had her staff in hand. Brady nodded a silent command, and Hawke popped into the hallway- startling the wardens.

"Aye-" One warden said.

With one quick flick of her staff, she froze them in place. "Come on!" She commanded and began to sprint down the hallway.

Brady followed, "Decent. Should've done something before even one word got out."

He heard her scoff in the distance and chuckled at himself.

Down the hallway led to the entrance of the fortress. Hawke swung a side door open to reveal exactly what they were expecting: A room full of wardens who were battle ready.

Brady scanned the room- two warriors, three rogues and a mage. With a nod to Hawke, they charged in with their weapons ready.

Brady cut and pressed through, protecting Hawke while ice projectiles flew from her staff.

"The mage, Hawke." Brady commanded of her, and she complied.

The warden mage was no fighter, but an experienced healer, Brady had gathered. He was dressed in robes, unprepared for a sword fight but still able to hold his own in a fight with his side in favor.

Brady covered Hawke's back as the three rogues took their daggers and tried to slash through any defense they had. Brady blocked and reacted to their quick strikes. He could feel the slash in his back tearing, but refused for that to slow him down. The two warriors joined the rogues, and almost instantly Brady was outmatched. He had to now only rely on the tricks the chevaliers at Skyhold had taught him during sparring matches. He could feel the teeth of the daggers cut through the exposed gauntlets and prick at him with overwhelming annoyance. Warm blood collected in his gauntlets, but he pressed on, protecting Hawke with everything he had.

Hawke placed a barrier on both of them and deflected the mage's weak shots at them. She slid at him and used her staff blade to puncture the cloth of his armor, causing him to quickly fall to his knees. With mercy, she slit his throat and redirected her attention.

"You need help over there?" She called out, watching him block strike after strike.

"That would be nice." He answered between strikes.

Hawke began shooting ice from her staff, slowing down the attacking wardens as much as possible from the safest distance she had.

Brady pushed away a single rogue and jabbed his blade into her shoulder. She screamed in agony, and swung her other arm at his neck. With a quick dodge, he took off her arm and she fell to the floor. In one fluid motion, he used a two handed sweep to knock them down to their feet.

Hawke cast Blizzard and Brady used the spell to his advantage, slicing at the remaining wardens while the cold slowed them to almost a halt. He ran his blade over a warrior's throat and watched him fall. He saw from the corner of his eye the other warrior using all the strength her could muster to bash Brady's head in with his hilt. Brady dodged and dipped down, finding a vacancy in the warden's armor, digging his blade into it with a quick shot and then just as quickly pulling it clean out of his body.

Hawke took care of the other two rogues with her Blizzard; they watched both warden rogues shatter to pieces on the ground.

"Are you okay?" Hawke said as Brady walked up to her. "I mean, that was pretty impressive... I guess."

Brady shot her a small smile and exhaled with exhaustion. "Tell Varric to put _that _in one of his books."

Hawke pointed to the door that led to the courtyard. "That's our way out."

Brady brought his eyes to the door. "They'll be waiting for us."

"Without a doubt." Hawke walked over and began to pull on the large door. "You gotta plan?"

"Yes," Brady joined her. "You: run to our horses. When I mean 'run', i mean run."

"So, I'm going to run." She gave him a sideways look. "And you are...?"

"Er, I'm going to..." He scratched the scruff on his chin with his bloodied gauntlet, "Open a rift in the middle of the courtyard?"

"We have officially reached desperation, haven't we?" Hawke chuckled, and began to pull on the door.

Brady followed her action and pulled hard on the large door. With a loud creek, it opened for them.

Wardens were in the courtyard and were walking towards them with a quickness in their step.

"Run, Hawke." Brady commanded as he charged at the wardens with confidence.

Hawke ran with her staff in her hand, hitting any attacker that tried to touch her with a wisp or the tip of her staff blade while she carved through the crowd and dashed to the gate.

"Wardens." Brady addressed them.

"Stop him!" A warden from the crowd cried with the taste of blood in her tone.

Brady raised his hand and watched the air bend to him. The rift opened above their heads, and with horror on their faces, he saw the life being drained out of them. Brady ran after Hawke and refused to waste the bought time.

Hawke waited at the gate and gestured for him to run faster, and he did. Exhaustion almost took him, but he continued to the gate and followed Hawke through it.

"We have to get back to camp before we're followed." Hawke said as she mounted onto her mare and began riding away.

Brady hopped onto his horse with unexpected difficulty and followed Hawke. He threw his blood filled gauntlet onto the ground and brought his horse to a gallop. "I hope Anders is as good of a healer as I hear."

* * *

Brady could see the camp and the sun setting on it. He could see Hawke arrive ahead of him to a crowd of people. His vision was getting more blurred with each trot of his horse, but he fought to maintain his consciousness.

The camp became more clear as he became closer and closer. He could see the features of Hawke, who had dismounted and was waiting for him to arrive. Before he knew it, the horse came to halt on his own and waited for him to dismount.

"Get Anders!" He heard Hawke's voice ring and echo in his ears.

He felt pairs of hands help him off of his horse and place his feet on the ground.

He could see Leliana's recognizable figure on his left, supporting his entire body's weight. He chuckled at the thought.

"So typical," her voice rang like a song, with a hint of scolding in it. "Bleeding out and you're _laughing."_

He chuckled again and looked over with a cocky smirk. "Leli, I'm fine."

Before she could retort, Anders and Hawke came running up. Anders took his right side and gathered all of Brady's weight, relieving Leliana.

"Inquisitor," Anders said, guiding him through the camp and to the makeshift infirmary, "This is... probably going to hurt."

Brady grumbled and hung his head.

* * *

Damon sat in Morrigan's tent. He watched her read a tome. He watched her bright gold eyes examine every word like her life depended on her to do so. He had missed her for thousands of reasons, and this was one of them.

"Do you need something, my warden?" She addressed him, but never took her eyes of the tome.

He leaned forward against his knees and cocked his head, "Maker, I've missed you."

She lifted her eyes from the page and connected with his grey gaze. "Do you, now? 'Tis a funny way you show it."

He smiled and held out his hand. She put the tome aside and slipped her hand into his. The light tug on her hand led her to sit in his lap and wrap her arms around his shoulders.

He looked at her with warmth and tucked back a few misplaced hairs. "We need to catch up."

She pulled on a grin and leaned in. "Perhaps, we shall start with this..." She pressed her lips onto his and could feel a hum of vibration from his chest as she deepened her kiss.

He placed a hand on the small of her back and laid her down on the bedroll, keeping his lips on hers and closing any space between them.

"Warden-Commander!" A voice called from outside of the tent.

Damon groaned and bowed his head onto Morrigan's forehead. "A little busy..."

"The Inquisitor and Serah Hawke have returned from Weisshaupt. The Inquisitor is in the infirmary. They said you would've wanted to know, Warden-Commander, ser."

"Go," Morrigan said. "I'll be waiting for you when you return."

He pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, and then exited the tent.

He walked the camp, still in awe the rebels managed to have such an organized set up. He saw the infirmary tent and let himself in.

Inside, Anders was patching up Brady, while Leliana stood to the side.

"Damon," Anders said, keeping his eyes on the stitching of Brady's back. "Nice to see you out of there in one piece."

"Anders," Damon said, crossing his arms. "Nice to see the camp isn't on fire."

Anders looked up from the stitches with a sneer aimed at Damon. Brady growled in pain as Anders was unintentionally pulling apart the stitches.

"Do me a favor and stay focused." Brady said through gritted teach.

Anders looked back to the stitches and continued, "Sorry, Inquisitor."

Damon walked up to Brady and crossed his arms, "It's nice to finally meet you, Trevelyan."

Brady met eyes with Damon and replied, "I will say, when I pictured myself finally meeting The Hero of Ferelden, I assumed I wouldn't be half naked in an infirmary."

Damon let out a laugh, "I want to thank you and Hawke for your part in getting me out, and helping for agreeing to help our cause."

"Leliana is the one you should thank, Warden. She's the one who convinced all of us to go through with this." Brady turned his head to her and smiled with warmth.

Damon looked at Leliana, who was standing in the corner of the tent with her arms crossed across her chest. "I should've guessed." He nodded his head at her. "Perhaps we could talk, Leliana. Outside?"

She nodded and followed him out.

They stood outside of the infirmary tent and watched the others organize and relax near the fire.

"You stopped responding to all of my letters," Leliana turned her head to Damon, "I was worried."

He let out a sigh, "In my defense, you sent _a lot _of letters." He chuckled at himself and looked over to her. "No excuse, I'm sorry."

"You should be." She smiled, and looked down at her feet. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Now, we can take Weisshaupt and change The Order for the better." He dipped his head, "Do you ever get tired of taking part in world changing events?"

She laughed, "Not one bit."

He pulled her into a hug and then separated, "I'm going back to Morrigan. Take care of him." His eyes lingered on the tent for a moment, then he turned and walked away.

Leliana headed back into the tent to see Brady prepared to snap Anders' neck.

"Isn't there a spell to numb the area?" Brady growled against his teeth.

Anders pulled the stitch tight, causing Brady to tense up and grip the table. "The blade was enchanted, Inquistor." He then started to wrap bandages around Brady's wrist. "I warned you it was going to hurt."

Brady rolled his eyes and looked up at Leliana. She was looking at Anders wrapping his wrist up tightly.

When Anders finished, Brady hopped off the table and rolled his shoulders. "Finally."

"I would tell you to relax and take it easy," Anders said while wiping his hands clean, "But you won't. So just be careful, and don't tear the stitches."

"No promises." Brady said while he slipped on a wool undershirt. He walked up to Leliana and pulled on a grin, "Good as new, right?"

"We'll see about that," She teased.


	7. You call that a plan?

"Cullen, you could go easier for now," Leliana said, shaking her head. "Anders said to not exert the inquisitor."

Cullen lowered his sword, much to Brady's dismay. "Leliana, please. He's been through worse." Cullen got closer to Brady, "I can only assume how rough you two are from what we hear through the walls." His words were only loud enough for Brady to hear.

Brady laughed and rose his sword. "Do your worst, Commander. Boredom is going to defeat me before you do."

They continued to spar. Each of them knew each other's moves all too well. It was more of a chess game than a sword fight when they would compete.

Hawke and Damon walked up together and stood next to the spectating Leliana.

"I want a crack at him," Hawke smiled and almost grabbed her staff.

Damon laughed, "As do I."

Brady overheard, and answered while continuing to challenge Cullen, "I could beat you both."

His cocky tone carried and brought over some of the near companions to listen in.

Isabela began to watch; bringing Merrill, Varric, Anders, and Zevran over with her.

"Is that a wager, I hear?" Varric smiled.

Zevran replied, "That is what I also heard, dwarf."

Isabela smirked, "I'm in... but Hawke, the Inquisitor is... quite formidable. He could command and conquer me anytime."

"That is quite enough," Leliana said. Her tone was sharp enough to make Brady chuckle while he parried a strike.

Merrill spoke aloud, "Hawke would win... Right? No. Yes, Hawke would win."

"I would win, is this serious?" Damon scoffed and crossed his arms. "You do remember I stopped a _blight _with a few companions and my dog... right?"

"The warden is my bet." Zevran said with his confidence swelling, "Hawke and Trevelyan never slayed an archdemon."

"You're right," Brady interjected, "I slayed a _red lyrium_ dragon." He returned to his fight and swiped Cullen off of his feet with a sweeping strike, stepping on his chest and pointing his dulled blade at his friend's throat, "Or maybe slaying a would-be God is more impressive." He helped Cullen and walked over to all the spectators, "I could go on, should I go on?"

Anders sighed, "Maker."

Brady's lips stretched into a smirk as he approached Leliana. "Who would you bet on?"

Before she could speak, Damon chimed in. "Leliana was _there _when I killed the archdemon. It would obviously be me."

Brady looked at her, holding a grin and shaking his head with a subtly only she could see. "You don't have to say anything, I know you'd pick me."

She pursed her lips, "Actually, Hawke did defeat the Arishok. Not to mention taking on Orsino and Meredith." She looked at Hawke with a smile, "She would win."

Both Brady and Damon through their heads back and groaned, causing a simultaneous laugh from the company surrounding them.

"We're going to settle this one day," Damon promised. "When all of this is over."

Brady nodded, "I can't wait to kick both of your asses."

"When _I _win, you'll both owe me an ale." Hawke said with a cocksure grin.

With agreement, they all shook hands.

"You don't mind if that becomes a short story, right?" Varric asked. "I could see it now: The Warden vs. The Champion vs. The Inquisitor, by Varric Tethras." He laughed at himself, "This stuff sells itself!"

"After all of that, I have forgotten why I had to get you, Inquisitor." Damon rubbed his chin, then a spark lit in the back of his mind. "Right, Hawke and I wanted to discuss a plan of attack."

Brady gestured in front of them. "Age before beauty, Warden," He grinned.

Damon chuckled, and led the way to the table. Morrigan stood, leaning forward against it.

"Where's Briala?" Brady asked.

"She went through the Eluvian to report back to Celene on any progress." Morrigan informed.

Hawke looked down at the map and pointed at a barren area between the fortress and the camp. "The plan to draw them out to here."

"We don't have a chance to storm the Keep while they're at full strength." Damon added, "We need to weaken their forces on the open field, then infiltrate when they have whittled away enough."

Brady looked down at the map and studied it. "We have to cut their numbers quickly. We lack the skill that they have. The Ferelden and Orlesian soldiers are going to be fodder to a skilled warden." He looked up and looked at the others that surrounded the table. "The casualties are going to be great."

They all shared the same grim look.

"Sometimes, it's unavoidable." Cullen dropped his head looked at the map. "If we can draw them out, we could hide troops behind these hills here." He pointed at them and continued, "Then, we could easily flank them."

"The question is, how do you draw them out?" Leliana asked.

Brady had the same question resting on his mind, but when his eyes connected with Hawke and Damon's, he knew exactly what they were planning. "With us."

The entirety of the company at the table swallowed hard. Damon saw Morrigan flinch from the corner of his eye and did his best to ignore it. Leliana's back straightened and she looked at Brady, but he refused to meet her eyes. Anders tensed up, and looked at Hawke, who was looking right back.

"Hawke," Anders said. His voice was quiet, "That is madness."

"The First Warden is pompous. He has scouts that are supposed to keep an eye on us. If he sees the three of us alone, he'll do anything do see us dead." Hawke said, never breaking contact with Anders' worried eyes.

"Even send his entire army to detain us." Damon added, "The man is insane, but he isn't dumb. He knows who we are. The Inquisitor and Hawke along were able to cut down many of his wardens without much effort. He knows he'll need an army to take us down, and that's exactly what he's going to use."

Brady met eyes with Damon and nodded, "I understand."

"I knew you would." Damon smiled grimly. "This happens tomorrow. Cullen, Leliana: You make sure the troops are ready. Morrigan and Anders: You are in charge of the mages. Make sure they have all of the lyrium they need."

"Of course." Cullen nodded.

"Then we have our duties, Maker bless us." Damon said and walked away from the table.

The night sky peaked on the camp. The sun was disappearing as fast as it came in the morning, simply slinking away. The soldiers began to retire, knowing that they needed their rest. There was a fight among them, that was known. But, the severity was still a mystery that weighed in the back of their minds, creating a unwanted thought to pop up every single time more news from Weisshaupt arrived.

Brady, Hawke, and the Warden Commander did their best to keep their own morale high. All three watched the sky, and prayed to the Maker to be blessed with a peaceful night.

The sun began to dip underneath the treeline, and Damon let out a sigh.

"Are you coming to bed, my warden?" He had heard Morrigan say a few steps away.

He turned to her and shot her a small grin. He said nothing as her fingers wrapped around his bicep and gave him a gentle tug.

Her eyebrows scrunched together. Her hand found his face and laid soft against his cheek. "You look troubled."

"I'm alright," He looked in her eyes and saw the familiar look of her disbelief in his words. He sighed again, "I just- I don't know."

Her face fell and she took his hand, guiding through the camp and pushing him into his tent. He sat and ran his fingers through his dark locks and looked up at her. "You don't need to worry."

She crossed her arms, "Tis' not I who is worried, that is obvious."

He chuckled, but the concern in her face didn't let up. "We're going to lose a lot of people, and the thought that it might not be worth it is just-" His head fell, "Am I doing this for myself? Just trying to prove a point to the First Warden?"

Her shoulders fell and she slunk next to him on the floor, cuddling up to comfort him. "Losses are expected, warden, but do not doubt yourself now. This cure is going to save more than who we lose."

"I suppose you're right."

"One question, though, my love..."

He turned his head and saw the inquisitiveness in her golden eyes. It was a sight he missed, and he had almost smiled because of it. He nodded for her to continue.

"You know what consists of a cure, do you not? Why wage a war with the rest of the wardens? Can we not simply distribute it ourselves?" Morrigan asked. "I support your decision to rid the First Warden from Thedas, my love. I am just curious."

"If it were that simple, I would have done it." He breathed. "Many requirements are obtainable: Dragon's blood, darkspawn bone, concentrated lyrium... but there is one thing we need the fortress for."

"Do not leave me in suspense. What is it?"

He looked at her, knowing what her reaction would be once the words came out of his mouth. "Griffon's blood."

Her face dropped, just as he anticipated. "Griffon's are extinct. Have you gone mad?"

"A few years ago, a few wardens stumbled upon undisturbed griffon eggs. They are being taken care of in the fortress." He said, then laid down on the bedroll. "I need to take control of the fortress, it is the only way-" He stopped, and took in a deep breath. "I refuse to die because of my calling. I refuse to leave you and Kieran. It isn't an option."

She laid next to him and pressed her head against his chest. "That was never an option."

He wrapped her arm around her and closed any space between them. "Maker, I love you."

Her chest vibrated against him with delight, "I love you, my warden."

He felt his eyes get heavy as her body heat caused him to become too comfortable. Soon, he was lost to his own nightmares.

* * *

Hawke hurried to her tent, only to be stopped by an entire group blocking the exit. Isabela, Varric, Carver, Merrill... they all stood with the same look on their faces: Fear.

Hawke cracked a smile, "I would love to play Wicked Grace, but I have a big day tomorrow, so-"

Anders walked up from behind and cut her off, "Hawke, no jokes for a moment, please?" Anders touched her shoulders and then joined their friends in front of the tent.

"We heard what you're planning, sister." Carver spoke, "It's suicide."

"I know where this tale is going, Hawke... and it isn't one with a happy ending." Varric said, the solemness in his voice striking a chord with every single one of them.

Isabela stepped forward, "We have never backed away from a fight, but this? Hawke, this is the only time I honestly believe we aren't going to come out of this."

"Listen to Isabela and Varric, Hawke." Merrill pleaded, "I want you to go home _alive._"

Hawke looked at them and took in their words. She knew they were scared for her, but that couldn't stop her. She had started this, and refused to let it go. At Adament, she made a promise to make sure Stroud's sacrifice wasn't in vein. She was going to finish this out, no matter what anyone said.

Still, seeing her friends like this brought back horrible images. Kirkwall came to mind, where they all stood around and couldn't predict the outcome. But, they were in it together, and they still were.

Hawke's mouth was void of moisture. She cleared her throat, "I understand you guys are worried, but-"

"Hawke," Carver's voice cracked. "You do not understand. I cannot lose any more family... Especially you."

Anders walked up and grabbed her hands. His eyes drooped ever so slightly. "We have given a lot to this cause... I won't give them your life, too."

Hawke dropped his hands and pushed him away, "Do you not understand, Anders?" She looked to her little brother, "Carver?"

"It isn't worth it-"

She cut Anders off, "There is a cure to the Grey Warden's curse. That means you and Carver will be able to live long lives without hearing your calling and having to throw your lives away." Her eyes darted between the two of them. Her eyes began to swell, but she kept her strength. "I refuse to lose any more family either."

She pulled Anders by his jacket and pulled him into a deep hug. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as though she would fly away if he let go. Soon, they all joined in.

"I love you," She whispered into Anders' chest. "I love you all."

"This is getting sappy, but I'll allow it... considering you're on a suicide mission." Isabela jested.

Merrill let a small sob out, "Isabela please don't bring up that part up, please? thank you."

"Now you got Daisy crying, Rivaini. Great." Varric added.

Hawke laughed and seperated from Anders' chest. "Everything is going to be okay." She looked at all of her friends and gave them a reassuring grin. "We'll endure. We always do."

* * *

Brady stood with Cullen and watched the last of the light in the sky disappear.

"It's remarkable here. I might have to build myself a home in the Anderfels." Cullen commented.

Brady kept his eyes on the sky and replied, "I prefer the Free Marches. Less Grey Wardens."

Cullen laughed, "The Free Marches breed crazy people. I mean, look how you turned out growing up in Ostwick."

"True, but I imagine growing up in Ferelden leaves a wet dog stench on you forever."

Cullen continued to laugh, making Brady join in. After a quick moment, they stopped. Cullen spoke up, "You've faced worse things than a whole army ready to kill you, you should be fine tomorrow."

Brady shrugged, "After Haven, I'm almost positive anything that happens pales in comparison to that."

"Leliana and I will have your back, once the bulk of the wardens are out to get you three, our soldiers will charge in." Cullen nodded.

Brady turned to Cullen. His lips pulled on a slight frown. "Make sure she's safe, Cullen."

Cullen chuckled, "She can take care of herself, Inquisitor."

"I know, but-" Brady shook his head, "If anything happens, just make sure she's okay."

Cullen clasped his shoulder, "You have my word, friend."

"Thank you, Cullen."

Cullen looked over his shoulder and grinned, "Speaking of..."

Brady turned to see Leliana walking closer to them. He could barely see her face against the darkness of the night.

"Should I give you two a moment?" Her accent fluttered in the words she spoke, "It looks like it's getting intimate."

Brady laughed, "We were, but I could make some time for you."

"I'll give you two some space." Cullen smirked, and walked towards the camp.

Leliana walked up to Brady and rested her gloved hands on his chest. His hands found her waist and pulled her towards him. Her face was just close enough for him to make out her expression. Underneath her hood, she looked worried; scared even.

He kissed her forehead, and a slight hum came from her chest. He grinned against her skin and let out a chuckle.

She looked up to him and saw him grinning, the dimples on his cheek prominent even in the dark. When their eyes met, his smile disappeared. She watched as wrinkles showed up on his forehead.

"Leliana," He said softly.

"Don't." She scolded.

"If I don't come back-" He pressed on.

"You will come back," Her eyebrows pulled down. Her hand found his face and caressed it. "You will come back," She repeated. "You made a promise to stay with me, whether as friends or more." Her lips pulled on a smile, "You have never broken a promise, Inquisitor. Don't start now."

He couldn't help but kiss her. His kiss was desperate, and she could feel it. He tasted like uncertainty and felt like rose petals. She could read his mind through the way he pressed gently onto her mouth over and over again. She felt everything, and not one part of it felt like it was goodbye.

He pulled away, and watched her eyes open as she licked her bottom lip. "Why'd you stop?"

He smiled with a brightness that made her mirror it. "Because," He kissed the tip of her nose and swiped her off her feet and secured her in his arms, "I wanted to do this."

She laughed, and he took her into his tent. Gently, he laid her body on his bedroll and positioned himself just above her. A lantern sat close to them, lighting the entire tent with a yellow-orange tint.

He looked at her and took her in. Her hood was pulled down, exposing her tangled red hair. He could feel her hands begin to undress him, but he couldn't stop smiling into her ocean blue eyes.

She pulled his shirt off and placed her arms on top of his shoulders. With impatience, her hand pulled on the nape of his neck. Her fingers ran through his short locks while her ruby lips found his once again.

He worked her out of her clothes and felt her shiver when her bare skin touched his. Her heart quickened when he moved his lips to her neck, his slow breaths against the sensitive skin almost rendered her helpless.

He kissed her jaw and nipped her ear with a slow breath, "I love you."

She caught her breath and brought his face to hers. Her tongue parted her lips as her eyes closed, "You can't mean that."

His crystallized blue eyes doted on her as he flashed a smile, "I _do _mean that." He lowered his head and pressed it against her forehead. His voice lowered to a soft whisper, "You don't have to say it back, but I needed you to know that." He kissed her deeply and pulled away, once again leaving her wanting more.

She looked at him and held a warm smile, "Thank you."

He grinned, putting his dimples on display. He pecked her lips and continued his kiss, losing himself to her for the night.


	8. The Beginning of an End

Brady gasped for air as his eyes shot open. The only light in the tent came from a flickering lantern at his side. His muscles felt frozen, pinning him down to the bedroll he and Leliana shared. She was coiled up against him, undisturbed by his abrupt spasm. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to slow his racing mind.

There was no use. Without the remedy from the mages back at Skyhold, he was a prisoner to his own thoughts once again. The flickering images of death and destruction he had seen over the past few years have done their job mangling his hopes of a goodnight's sleep.

With a sigh, he gently rolled Leliana to her side, wrapping her up in the blanket. She barely flinched, which allowed him to relax. They both had a huge day ahead of them, and he preferred her sleeping calmly rather than staying up and asking questions about what was wrong.

Brady threw on a pair of trousers and a tunic. He left the tent and paced away from it, reveling in the cool air and quiet of the area around him. Quiet, besides the flickers and snaps of a fire not too far away.

The figures by the fire were distinguishable: it was Hawke and Damon- not saying a word- just simply staring into the flames of the roaring fire between them.

As Brady walked over, their heads picked up and looked to him. Damon motioned towards a spot around the fire, "Take a seat, Inquisitor."

Brady nodded, and sat beside Hawke. Hawke nudged him and revealed a flask. She offered, and he agreed, slinging it back and wiping his chin of the remnants after.

"What brings you out here?" Hawke asked, bringing her eyes back to the fire. "Dreams about people you couldn't save? Nightmares about your enemies coming back to haunt you?" She paused and pulled on a smirk, "Or did Leliana simply steal all the blankets?"

Brady chuckled, "All the above, I'm afraid."

"Maker, aren't we all just a joke." Damon swirled his mug of ale and drank from it. He sighed, "'The Heroes of Thedas.' What's all of it worth if we can't even sleep at night?"

They fell silent, only due to the truth in his words. Brady hung his head low, running his fingers through his hair to soothe the tension that pulsed against his skull.

"May I ask, Inquisitor… what exactly keeps you up at night?" Damon inquired, his grey eyes prominent against the dark circles underneath them.

"The Mark," He answered. His hand glowed green as he held it out. "It makes everything so vivid. Whenever I see the people I couldn't save or the faces of people who have been slaughtered, it's like I'm living it all over again."

"And you, Hawke?"

Hawke sucked on her teeth, "I'd rather not talk about it, Warden."

"Oh, come on. I've read Varric's book. I know of all of the horrors you've seen. I'm simply curious."

Hawke stared at the warden, her green eyes showing resistance. She shook her head, "My mother and Bethany. Every night, I see them and am reminded of how I failed them."

"That was out of your control, Hawke." Brady interjected.

"Was it?" She replied, and taking another drink from her flask.

"During the blight, I was visited by the archdemon every time I closed my eyes. Eventually, I got used to it. Being a warden, you have to." He leaned forward and looked to both of them. "It wasn't until I was given a family where I found my greatest fear. You want to keep them safe from this world, from everything- but you can't. No matter how hard you try or how hard you fight, fate eventually takes the control away from you."

"You're afraid of your calling?" Brady said solemnly.

"Terrified."

"We'll find your cure, Warden, I assure you." Hawke added with a confident grin only she could manifest.

Damon lifted his ale and tipped it towards Hawke, "I'm going to hold you to that, Champion."

Hawke threw another log on the fire. The embers shot up as the already brazen flame began to eat away at the dry wood. She tipped her head back and looked at the sky. Damon did the same, smiling to himself.

"We wage war and create such horrors on land, but when you look up, the sky is always constant, unchanged." Damon said.

"I like the sky when it isn't spewing demons out of it." Brady added.

Damon laughed, "Leliana loves the stars." He put on his best Orlesian accent, "'Each star holds a story, Grey Warden.'" He looked to Brady. "Morrigan simply prefers the night… as I am just content with nights with her."

Brady cocked an eyebrow, "Have you and Leliana ever… you know…?"

A smirk came across the warden's face. "Have we what, Inquisitor? Licked a lamppost in winter together?" He laughed at himself, "No. Never. There was a small attraction long ago, when we first met, but you don't have to worry. Her heart seems to be occupied, anyhow."

"You seem to have left your 'mark' on your spymaster, Inquisitor." Hawke grinned, and waited for a reaction. They simply cringed at the terrible pun. Hawke spoke up again, "Wait, I have another one…"

Brady interjected, "If it's another joke about 'switching hands,' I will run my sword through you, Hawke, I swear it."

She threw her hands up and yielded.

"I will say inquisitor, 'Herald of Andraste' or not, you hurt her, and I'll kill you." Damon had a smile, which only made his words all the more unnerving to Brady.

Brady scratched the back of his neck, "That- won't be necessary."

Damon tipped his drink toward Brady, "As long as were clear on that."

Hawke coughed and clapped her hands together. "So, anyone up for a game of wicked grace?"

* * *

The morning was well underway. There was the familiar mood of anxiousness and fear amongst everyone in the camp. They had the numbers, the leadership, and the will- but Weisshaupt has never fallen, and that fact scared every soldier that was preparing for the battlefield.

Even Damon.

He was sharpening his sword outside of the tent. Well, it wasn't _his _sword, and he detested the idea of using any weapon besides his family's sword. But, the blade was well enough to accompany him for the battle and he knew he had to make due.

Morrigan watched him from not too far away. She had seen him like this before, though there was no getting used to it. His unkempt look was something she hasn't seen since the blight. Above all, she could see his uncertainty. It was written all over his face and demeanor. The way he looked disappointed in himself when he couldn't quite work out the kink in the sword he was working on, or the fact that he didn't bother to buff his Warden-Commander armor, as though he knew it would simply be battered anyway.

"You're staring," Damon said, not taking his eyes off the blade. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you wanted me to take you to bed."

She heard him and laughed, "Perhaps that is my intention."

He looked up at her and wiped the sweat off of his brow. She stood there with a coy grin, making him chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind after this is over."

Hawke walked up while fixing her gauntlets, "Alright, I believe it is about time we start 'Operation: Deathwish,' don't you agree?"

Brady also joined them, wearing his signature silverite armor that now had a red fox's pelt draped over his shoulders, creating a fiery contrast. Leliana and Cullen were at his flanks, both of their faces painted with a seriousness that outmatched anyone else's on site.

"Aren't you sweating with that around your neck?" Hawke asked, directing it to Brady.

He looked at the fur on his shoulders and shrugged, "It's comforting… reminds me of certain things in my life." He threw a small smirk Leliana's way.

Morrigan rolled her eyes, "'Tis very cheesy around here, and Alistair is nowhere to be found."

"I suggest you all say your goodbyes, just in case." Damon said, his eyes on Morrigan.

"Already have." Hawke affirmed, continuing to toy with her charged gauntlets.

Brady grabbed Cullen's hand and pulled him close, "Keep her safe." He murmured.

They separated, and Cullen nodded with understanding.

Brady turned to Leliana and pulled on a small grin, "I'll see you soon."

"You better." Leliana said, holding a smile even as her eyes grew weary.

Damon stood up and placed a kiss on Morrigan's forehead. He sheathed his sword and began to walk away from the camp, both Hawke and Brady following behind and joined him, each on a mount. Brady gave a final look back, giving his best attempt of reassurance to the friends he was leaving behind.

Damon flicked the wrings of his chestnut Ferelden Forder and propelled forward. Without room for much thought, Hawke and Brady did the same, following him into the distance.

Leliana watched them fade away from view alongside Cullen and Morrigan. Once their frames were blotches in the distance, she exhaled and turned away. Her eyes scanned every companion who was content in their preparation. She could feel their nerves; Maker knows she felt the same.

"He'll be alright." She heard someone say. She turned towards the sound. Anders. He was sitting on a fallen log with his hands folded in front of him, and looked at her with a kindness. He continued, "They'll be alright."

She crossed her arms, "How can you be so sure?"

He stood up from his seat. "I am not a religious man."

"I've noticed."

He let a small breath of a laugh out. "Yes, well… Whenever I fear for her… for Hawke… I catch myself praying to The Maker to keep her safe."

"And you are sharing this with me for what purpose?"

The animosity in her tone didn't go unnoticed. "She always comes back to me. Whether it be The Maker's work or just dumb luck…"

"There is no such thing as luck, Anders." She turned away from him and began to walk away, "It's all just part of His plan."

* * *

Their horses were at a slow trot. The area around them was bare, save for a few hills that cluttered the perimeter.

Damon was at point, his eyes constantly surveying the land. He had been at it for hours, and it began to feel like it was all in vein.

Hawke broke the silence, "Usually during long bouts of silence, my friends and I, I don't know, talk to each other."

"I'm not much for banter when I'm riding." Brady admitted, his eyes forward.

"Well, you should fix that, Inquisitor."

Brady scratched the back of his neck, "I'll admit, I've tried."

Damon joined in, "This is rather suspicious." He turned his body towards them as his horse continued to trot forward. "No scouts, no attack. There aren't even remnants of habitation anywhere."

Brady sped up to be shoulder to shoulder with Damon. "Could he have wizened up?"

"Possibly, but it's very unlike him to play games rather than just attack us… unless…" He lowered his voice. "Hawke, can you sense any magic in the area?"

"Warden, we stand on the grounds that have seen the blight five times over." She raised her chin, "Of course I sense magic."

"No, Hawke, that's not what I-"

Damon's horse buckled and came close to throwing him off. Damon maneuvered his mount and saw the cause: pairs of skeletal hands poking through the earth and forcing themselves out of their resting breath. He cursed, and drew his sword.

"Inquisitor, there's mages in the area!" Damon shouted as the ground around them began to spawn more of the undead.

Brady drew his sword and began to slash away at the undead that approached his mount. "Fade cloaks!" He pulled on his wrings and maneuvered his horse. "Disable their magic, Hawke, I'll keep them off of you."

Brady circled Hawke's horse as she pulled off her staff and began to cast a disabling area spell. Her staff began to glow a bright white as the magic began to coat the area around them. "Necromancy, not my favorite." She said under her breath.

They were becoming outnumbered with every second passing. Damon's horse was at its threshold, thrashing and becoming more and more difficult to hold onto.

"They're among the foothills!" Hawke confirmed, and began riding hard towards the hidden mages. As her magic began to peel away their fade cloaks, the mages began to appear out of thin air, in heavy armor rather than robes and heavily armed. "This'll be fun."

Brady saw the mages manifesting, and called out to Damon. "Forget about them, Warden. Go for the mages!"

Damon nodded, and galloped towards Hawke, holding his sword low and crippling as many undead as possible. Brady focused on the corpses, skillfully outmaneuvering every attempt the horde made of dismounting him and striking blow after blow from his horse.

Hawke saw Damon in the corner of her eye and gave him a subtle nod. She pointed her staff to a mage that was casting and released a cone of cold. They froze in place, and with skilled precision, Damon rode past and shattered the mage into pieces. Damon hopped off of his horse and put to use the minimal Templar training he had remembered from Alistair years ago.

With shield in hand, he charged as the group of mages hurled fireballs in his direction. He angled his shield to deflect the attacks away. Hawke assisted, keeping direct fire on the mages and dividing their attention. When he was close enough, a mage drew a sword and began to strike at him. Damon noticed it was enchanted by the way the blade was bright with flames. They licked his face, the heat from both the fireballs and the blade caused his body to grow warm inside of his armor.

The mage struck with precision, straining Damon's ability more than he expected. He deflected the swing with his sword, and struck the mage with his shield, causing him to stumble back, allowing just enough of a window to bury his sword through the exposed chainmail between his breast plates. Damon watched the life vacate his adversary, then quickly pushed him off of his blade.

Damon turned to his left to see another mage with his sword raised and ready to strike into him. He parried, as Brady came riding and took the mage's head clean off.

Damon looked up and nodded. Brady did the same, then shouted. "Blizzard, Hawke!"

"If only I had thought of that!" She said, preoccupied with engaging two mages that had managed to flank her.

Brady taunted them, and they turned their aggression towards him, but not before one shot a bright ball of electricity into the sky. Hawke let a grunt out as magic shot from her fingertips and staff, causing the area to become covered with an arctic frost. Damon used his shield to deflect the winds from the spell and engaged one mage while Brady took on the other. They made quick work of the two as they were blinded by the sudden eruption of snow and fast winds. Damon grabbed his opponent and pushed him out of the storm. As it died down, he threw the man to his back and held the tip of his sword against the mages neck.

"You sent a flare, did you not? How far are your forces?" Damon inched the blade closer, turning it and drawing a single drop of blood.

He spat, "Fuck. You."

Damon wasn't amused, and brought his knee against the mage warden's jaw. "I won't ask again."

The mage wiped the blood from his mouth and scoffed, "You'll find out soon enough."

Damon clenched his jaw and was ready to end his life. He rose his sword only to be stopped by Hawke. "Perhaps, he could be of use." She suggested. Damon looked at her, and retracted his blade. She continued, "Go, mage. Tell Larson he'll have to do better than this."

Damon stepped away as he scurried away. He sheathed his sword and examined the bodies of the fallen, cringing at their familiar faces, now lifeless.

Brady veered off into the distance with small grunts of pain. "Son of a-," Brady ripped off his left gauntlet revealed the unnerving glow of his mark. The veins that ran from his hand to his arm protruded immensely, sending a shooting pain with every heartbeat. He gritted his teeth and cradled his hand, "Andraste's grace."

Damon looked over, "Your mark, Inquisitor."

"I had used it on the corpses." Brady said, creating a fist and slowly releasing, stretching his fingers out. "It's just flaring up, I'll be fine."

"Our forces better be prepared." Hawke said, then drinking a vial of lyrium that she retrieved from her pack.

"Cullen should already have them mobilized." Brady added.

Damon descended the hill, "We have to prepare just in case our men aren't be here on time." He called for his horse. "It won't be long now until we're neck deep in Wardens."


	9. Anderfels Hospitality

"It never ends." Larson said aloud to an empty room, sitting at his desk and reading letters from warden outposts around Thedas. He rubbed his temples and sighed, tossing them aside and settling in his chair.

He reached for the top drawer of his mahogany desk and pulled it open. His lips pulled on a small smile as he picked up the parchment that contained words that have been read a million times over. Every time he pulled out that letter, he noticed the fading of the ink. It was disheartening, of course, but he held hope that one day, some day, he would receive another on his desk.

A knock at the door broke his reminiscent glow, and he tucked the letter away.

"Come in."

The door cracked open and allowed a warden to enter. He was wounded, but must have been patched up prior to ascending to the First Warden's office. He stood stone-faced in the center of the room with his body standing straight. "Ser."

Larson leaned forward, "Ah, part of the scouting team." He watched the mage nod, and could not help to let out a small chuckle. He shook his head. "And you come back alone… I half expected this."

"Our brothers did not go down without a fight, but they are…" The mage warden let out a sigh. "The Inquisitor and Hawke cut through Weisshaupt's defenses once before, and this time the Warden-Commander was with them."

Larson stood up and paced to the window and leaned against the cool glass. "Tell me, why didn't you join the rebellion with much of the other wardens?"

"Ser?"

Larson's black eyed stare turned to the mage, "Answer the question."

The mage cleared his throat. "This order is ancient, ser. Its principles have withstood the ages, and to tarnish that? I don't believe any warden has the right to do away with such a thing."

"I want you to remember that. I want you to remember what you're fighting for." Larson turned away from the mirror. "The wardens who have sacrificed _everything _for this order. That is what you are standing behind."

The warden nodded. "I would not shed blood for anything less, First Warden."

"I want a report. Where you ran into them, how they fought, what you saw." Larson went to back to his chair and took a seat. Before the mage walked out, he called out to him. "Tell the other wardens those three are continuing to cut your brothers and sisters down, for they will need motivation for the war that is to come."

* * *

"This fucking thing." Brady groaned, cradling his left hand with his right.

"The potions aren't helping?" Hawke asked, riding next to him.

"No." He said with a small voice.

The sun was going down, and with the seasons changing, the air grew brisk and unforgiving. Brady could see his companions becoming victims to the cold, and he almost thanked himself for adding the fox pelt to his armor.

Damon continued to lead, but as the sun went down, it grew more difficult to continue. He halted his horse and looked vacantly into the distance. Stopping could prove fatal, as a quick slit of the throat while they slept was too probable of a problem, but Damon struggled to find an alternative. He could see ghosts of fire in the distance. If his hunch was correct, it was a village. An Anderfels village. The Anders were quite different from the rest of the continent, he had learned from experience. The majority of Anders were very loyal to Weisshaupt, and seeking shelter there could pose a risk. But, with choices becoming scarcer and the falling sun becoming more of a problem than The First Warden himself, he kicked his horse and galloped towards it.

Upon arrival, they received countless looks from the villagers. It was understandable. It was not every day three horsemen armed to the teeth came trotting through.

Outside of a tavern, they tied up their horses. The commotion from inside suggested a drunken atmosphere they could easily blend into. Brady kept his left hand gloved and held back curses. With a pat on the back from Damon, he composed himself, and they entered, only to be greeted with more stares.

Hawke walked up to the bar and couldn't help but order a drink. Brady did the same, taking a seat next to her after muscling his way in between her and another gentlemen. Damon continued to stand. His eyes scanned the room for any familiar faces, and was happily disappointed when he didn't find a single one.

"Do you have rooms, ser?" Damon asked, his voice low and creaking with exhaustion. "The three of us will pay good coin for one."

The bartender looked at the three of them, all of their eyes doe as though they were dogs begging for the last scrap of meat. "You three?" He chuckled heartily while cleaning the inside of a glass. "I see. I don't think our beds will handle what you're planning for her." He winked at Hawke.

"Please," Hawke rolled her eyes. "They should be so lucky."

Brady raised his brows. "Well, that's an interesting image." Hawke punched him in the arm, causing a slight spill of his ale.

"You can have a room for the night." The bartender decided, placing the now polished cup directly in front of them with an echoing cling catching their attention. "If you can answer one thing."

"Of course," Damon nodded, "Anything."

The bartender leaned forward, his meaty hands taking up most of the room on the counter. "You need to tell me why in the Maker's name are the inquisitor, the champion, and the warden-commander are in my bar?"

Damon narrowed his eyebrows, but kept his voice even. "How did you-"

The bartender scoffed, "Please. You're the most obvious," his tone went from slightly insulted to mocking, "The Hero of Ferelden, how do you do?" He then turned his gaze to Brady. "His hand is glowing, that glove isn't doing anything for you, boy." Finally, he crossed his arms. "And Hawke, if you never wanted to be recognized, maybe you should wipe off that blood smear on your face."

Hawke shrugged, "Fair enough."

"We're here on important business." Damon clarified.

"'Important business,' huh? Does that explain the dead wardens we keep hearing about around town? Thought it was the darkspawn, glad to find out it was just you three."

"We don't want any trouble." Brady argued.

The bartender scoffed, "I doubt that. You already have the people here too nervous to drink their ale." He eyes flickered to the crowd of villagers behind the three, and they followed his stare, showing a plethora of eyes looking back at them with little whispers. He continued, "I'll make you a deal: Keep your weapons with the mounts you rode on. I'll even offer the stable. Agree and you'll get your room. Free of charge."

Damon's eyes narrowed. "You want to relieve us of our weapons? Do you understand how mad that sounds?"

The bartender leaned in and kept his voice low. "Do you see anyone else in here with weapons? People like you tend to leave a trail of bodies behind, and I would rather not have that happen here."

Damon's lip twitched. He never took lightly to parting with his family sword, especially at the insistence of a burly bartender. But, his hands were tied. What else could he do? It was either his sword or a night in the cold, and he couldn't figure out which option was worse. He stood tall and sized up the bartender. The bartender stood straight, standing his ground. Damon unsheathed his sword and examined the blade. The bartender's eyes widened, and Damon grinned. "Very well." He placed the sword on the bar, "I don't need a sword to cause bloodshed."

The bartender's nostrils flared as his tone grew acidic. "The stables are behind the tavern."

Damon nodded, picked his sword up, resting it back in its sheath and headed towards the stables.

* * *

At Morrigan's suggestion, Cullen called for camp to be made. He didn't argue either, he knew exhaustion in a soldier's eyes when he's seen it. She had made an argument that the Warden was close, and that's exactly where he needed his forces to be: Close, but not too close. The reinforcements were prepared for a war, though there was still hope in the Commander's head for no more lost lives.

He supervised the making of camp, keeping a watchful eye on any lazy contributions. In a not so shocking discovery, he noticed that there was no such thing as a lack of effort here. In fact, ever since his appointment to his role of the Commander of the Inquisition, it was very rare to see a display of idleness in any of his soldiers. They believed in what they were doing, and that wasn't absent in the rebel wardens, nor the Ferelden or Orlesian soldiers.

After a time, he asked a lieutenant to assume his duty, and began to walk the camp. It wasn't long until he saw Leliana. Her tent was already pitched, and a small fire was lit in front of her. She was reading a piece of parchment until Cullen's approach broke her attention.

"Scouting report?" He guessed, taking a seat beside her.

She shook her head. "No. It's from Josephine."

Cullen cocked an eyebrow. "Has Skyhold burnt to the ground in our absence?"

"No, but I wouldn't joke about that." She grinned. "The divine wants to meet with the Inquisitor at his earliest convenience." Her eyes scanned the words on the parchment again. "An exalted council will take place in Halamshiral."

Cullen ran his finger through his hair and let out a groan. "Maker, I'd rather not spend another moment in Orlais."

"You might not have to after this."

"And why not?"

"It's to 'discuss the fate of the Inquisition.'" Leliana clarified.

Cullen's face contorted. "Brady is going to love this. We spend three years fixing this continent to have them slap our wrists and claim we've gone out of bounds."

"The thought hasn't crossed your mind, Commander?" Leliana inquired, her words peaking his curiosity. "Finally laying down the sword and living a normal life?"

He tilted his head. "It's madness to lay down my sword when there are things in this world that I still need to swing it at, no?"

"Assuming everything is a target." She quipped, and tucked the note away. "The Inquisition was never meant to be permanent. Perhaps we have served our purpose."

"Evidently not, were in the middle of a rebellion."

"You know what I meant."

Cullen chuckled. "I did. But, perhaps you are right. Brady will make sure he has a say in the matter, however. I'm interested to see if he shares your sentiment."

"It doesn't matter if he does or not, he'll just be postponing the inevitable." She relaxed, and threw a log onto her fire. "I trust he'll respect Divine Justinia's wishes."

"Even if he does, the Inquisitor never be free, Leliana." His voice grew dark, solemn. "I think you and I both know that. His damned hand of his will have him leashed to someone. Perhaps the divine-"

"Cassandra would never-"

Cullen raised his voice. "As much as we hate the idea, no nation wants a man who can open rifts into the fade walking among us without supervision. They'll cut his hand off before they even think of letting him go."

"I do not believe that."

"Then you're being naïve." Cullen declared.

"And you're being cynical." She retorted, her eyebrows pushing together with protest.

"I'm being realistic." He snapped back. "If this exalted council goes the way I imagine it will, Brady should disappear… find some respite in some village nobody even knows exists."

Leliana stood up. Her voice was cool, "Enough talk. We should continue to deal with the conflict we're stuck in right now." Cullen began to follow her, but she raised her hand for him to pause. "Let that be tomorrow's problem."

He huffed and watched her disappear into her tent. He walked away, only to be interrupted a few steps later by a soldier.

"Commander, Lady Morrigan would like to see you." The soldier relayed, and with the commander's nod of understanding, he walked away.

"I wonder what she needs this time." Cullen mumbled under his breath.

* * *

Brady awoke to the sound of screams outside of the window. He reached for a sword that wasn't there and growled with annoyance. The room was pitch black and the only visible thing was Hawke laying alone in the bed. He pushed Damon from the chair he was sleeping in.

Damon answered with a shove back. "What in Andraste's name was that for?" Brady didn't have to answer, they sound of sheer panic from outside answered his question for him. He rushed to his feet and shook Hawke awake. "Wake up, Damnit."

Hawke's eyes opened wide when she, too, heard the sounds coming from outside. "I really hope this is a bad dream."

"Come on." Brady urged.

They rushed out of the rented bedroom and down the stairs of the tavern. It was empty, the only thing crowding the area were empty mugs.

"We have to get to the stables." Hawke said.

Damon and Brady nodded, and headed through the tavern door. They were greeted by running villagers, being followed by a slow moving faction of armor that glowed orange with the torches each soldier carried. They ducked behind a fixture outside of the tavern.

The three of them exchanged looks as a woman began to speak. "Warden-Commander Cousland, show yourself or we'll turn this village and people to ash."

Hawke grew impatient as each second passed them, "We either turn ourselves in, or head for the stables. There's no time to waste!"

"They're going to kill innocent people, I'm not about to let that happen." Brady whispered back. "Hawke, cloak yourself and get to the stables."

"I could easily set all of these wardens on fire." She argued, almost ready to cast a spell.

Brady grabbed Hawke's hand. "Not if it means these villagers will die."

Damon's eyes switched between the approaching wardens and the path to the stables.

"You cannot be debating this right now." Brady spat.

The woman began to speak again, yelling over the horrid screams of the villagers scrambling to safety. "By the Maker, we know you're here. Show yourself!"

"Go to the stables, find our camp." Brady commanded. "I'll distract them for you."

"Stop, Trevelyan!" Damon ordered, but to no avail.

Brady walked in front of the faction with his hands raised. "Enough!"

The female warden who led the faction held her hand out, and the entirety of the horde paused. Brady stood there, unfazed. She began to approach him. Her armor was exquisite, shimmering with silverite and a proud grey warden emblem perched across the entirety of her chest plate.

When she was a few feet away, she raised the visor of her helmet. She rose her torch to Brady's face, and he could feel the heat of the fire melting the hairs of his face. The warden smiled like a snake eyeing up her next meal. "Inquisitor Trevelyan, I am Warden Dawson, and it's an _honor_ to finally meet you. Where's the Warden-Commander? And Hawke?"

"I came here alone." He replied. "The Warden and Hawke could be anywhere in the Anderfels."

Dawson shrugged. "The First Warden should be pleased with you returning with us, with or without the Warden-Commander."

"There is no need for this." Brady took a step towards her with a snarl. "Turn back and end this terrorism."

Dawson laughed. "Not without leverage, Inquisitor, you understand." She brought her fist to Brady's jaw, snapping his head to the side. Brady jumped to retaliate, only to be stopped by a waving torch. "Now, now. You can either come with us peacefully or not, however only one of those options has a happy ending for this village."

Brady held out his hands in compliance, and Dawson gestured for another warden to tie his hands up. While the Warden tied him up, Brady let out a laugh and mumbled to him. "Death would be kind after I'm done with you." The warden looked up at him for a moment, then rejoined the faction after handing the rope to Dawson.

"C'mon Trevelyan," she tugged on the restraints, "It's quite a way to Weisshaupt."

"Wait, wait!"

Brady looked over his shoulder, as did Dawson. Both Hawke and Damon approached them, unarmed and hands above their heads.

Brady rolled his eyes, "So close."

Dawson cocked her head towards them. "Restrain them, too." She patted Brady's chest. "Nice try, Trevelyan."

Once they were all bound, the faction of wardens began to lead them out of the village.

"What in the void do you guys think you are doing?" Brady cursed in a hushed voice.

Damon kept his eyes forward. "If you thought we were just going to leave you to play hero, you're forgetting who we are." He turned his head to him. "We have a better chance of getting out of this together."

"Speaking of getting out of this," Damon and Brady didn't have to look, they already knew the slanted grin Hawke held on her face. "I don't know about you boys, but I'm dying to find out how exactly we're going to do that."


	10. Secrets, Secrets

"Alright, alright." Hawke insisted, her eyes darting back excitingly between Brady and Damon. "Another round of bed, wed, behead?"

"Maker no." Dawson sighed from behind them. "I cannot deal with anymore of your childish games, Champion."

Hawke scoffed and looked over her shoulder to the disgruntled warden who had a tight grip on their shackles. "Don't take this personally, but I do not care."

Dawson pulled on the leverage she had, causing the three of them to wince as the chains around their hands tightened.

Hawke persisted, her voice growing raspy and low as she put on a mockingly sultry smirk. "Please be gentle, Dawson. It's my first time."

"Hawke." Brady scolded with a sharp whisper.

She returned her attention to him and cocked an eyebrow. "Sorry, Inquisitor. I didn't mean to turn you on."

Brady rolled his eyes as Damon chuckled. Brady shook his head. "You know that's not what I meant."

Hawke shrugged, and thought hard for a minute. "You know what, Dawson? Why don't you play a round?"

"Absolutely not." She replied. She was ahead of the faction of wardens that led the charge through the Anders village, but still threw occasional looks to see if they were listening in to anything that was said ahead of them.

Hawke continued, despite the protest. "Okay, answer honestly: The inquisitor, the Warden-Commander, and I."

Brady winced. "That's a tough one, Dawson."

"I'd definitely 'bed' myself." Damon added. "Brady, you'd be beheaded."

"You know, it's not your turn."

"Don't be mad because I'd behead you." Damon smiled playfully, then readdressed Dawson. "Come on, we're dying for your answer."

"You're mad if you think I'm answering." She scowled, causing a collective sigh from all three of them.

"Fine, fine. Be that way." Hawke shrugged her off. "How about King Alistair, Empress Celene, and Divine Victoria?"

"You can't be serious." Brady chuckled.

Damon joined in. "I'm not touching that one, either."

Hawke huffed at their protest, and gave up on her game all together. With a few curses spat about their lack of entertainment, they grew silent. Until, that is, the warden camp revealed itself. It was magnificently put together, as though it had been used before. And, Brady had gathered, it probably was during attacks. The tents cluttered the area that were overshadowed by old stone watchtowers that would allow anyone to see across the plains with ease.

"Would you look at that?" Hawke expressed with a small hint of awe in her tone.

Damon clarified. "These are remnants from previous blights. We would use them more as checkpoints."

"Thanks for the history lesson, pops." Brady quipped.

They were abruptly stopped, causing another wince from their shackles. Dawson ordered two other wardens to wrestle Hawke and Damon into their holding cells, while she personally handled Brady. She uttered a command to the other wardens, insisting of using brute force if they were to try anything funny. She began to lead, keeping a tight grip on Brady's shackles.

"Careful, my lady." Brady warned with a whisper. "My hand has a tendency to act up."

She looked at him with true concern, but then dismissed his claim. "You are a terrible liar."

"And you see right through me." He replied with a smile. He looked at her, managing to make out bright green eyes. For a second, he swore he saw her smile.

"You are an open book compared to the nobles of Orlais." She said, her eyes now forward and continuing to lead him.

"You're from Orlais?" He asked, keeping his tone just loud enough for her to here.

She looked at him and retracted. "Yes, and that's all you're getting out of me."

Brady could see the holding cells just ahead, but continued to prod the warden at his side. "So, a bard, were you?"

She shook her head. "Stop trying, Trevelyan."

"Who found respite with the Grey Wardens..." He said factually, smiling at himself. "… Most likely getting in tangled with something, or someone, a little over your head."

"That's a fancy tale you're crafting."

He shrugged. "I take my victories where I can." He cocked his head. "Just out of curiosity, am I close?"

"Don't make me punch you again."

They had reached the holding cells. They were rickety and wooden, but Brady knew there was more to them then met his eye. Dawson ordered the binding of their feet and pushed them into their individual cage. Dawson walked away and kept three wardens on watch, who were standing still and cladded with armor, their eyes not leaving the three of them.

"Good idea enchanting these." Hawke taunted. "Cause if they weren't, I'd break out and kick each of your asses."

They didn't reply, causing Hawke to scowl and shake her head.

Brady settled his back against the cage. "It could be worse."

"For all this careful planning, it's amazing we are back to square one." Hawke sneered. She kicked the structure with her bound legs, but gave up and sighed.

Damon shook his head back and forth, staring down at the dirt. "Morrigan is going to kill me." He looked at the two of them and raised his voice. "And I cannot tell you how tired I am of being someone's prisoner." He huffed and mumbled. "Especially Larson's."

"Well," Brady looked over his shoulder and then back to Hawke. "We drew the wardens out. Look at all of them."

"That was the plan, but are you forgetting we're each locked in a cage?!"

Brady waved her off. "We can get out of this. Right?"

"Keep flirting with Dawson, and you might sleep our way out of this." Hawke joked.

Damon's eyes widened, and he kicked his cage in Brady's direction. "Are you insane?"

"Whoa, whoa." Brady protested. "I was not 'flirting.' Hawke, tell him I wasn't."

"I'm telling Leliana." Hawke teased. "If Larson doesn't kill you, she sure will."

Brady sighed. "She isn't the jealous type."

Damon laughed. "Everyone is the jealous type."

"Agreed." Hawke added.

A few hours began to pass, as the three of them continued to bicker about everything and anything that suited them. That is, until Dawson resurfaced. She came towards Brady's cage and opened it. He squinted at the light that came off of the lit torch she held. He saw she was relieved of her heavy armor, showing short blonde hair that was pinned to her forehead by the sweat on her brow. Her green eyes were angry as she looked down at him. "Come, you."

"I have a name you know." He retorted.

She rolled her eyes. "Inquisitor," She bent down and pulled on the chains that bound his hands, urging him to stand up. "I have no time for games."

He grunted as she pulled his restraints tighter. "I can't walk when both of my feet are bound, warden."

"No," She tugged on the restraints again. "But, you can shuffle there."

He stood up and followed her out of the cage. "I could make a run for it, you know." He joked, shuffling towards the Wardens' camp. "I'd be lost within those woods over there." He chuckled at himself, "Try explaining _that_ to the First Warden."

She groaned. "You're insufferable."

He tipped his head to the side. "It's part of my charm."

"What charm?" She snorted, causing Brady to retract.

"Now, that's just mean." She pulled again on his restraints, much to his annoyance. "I can't go any faster, warden."

"He wanted to speak to you as soon as he got to the camp, and I'd rather not piss him off."

"May I ask who?"

"Larson, of course." She stopped and turned, giving him a baffled sneer. "You truly are daft."

She started walking again, and he followed. "Keep up with the insults, and I'm going to start to think you have a crush on me, Dawson."

Dawson scoffed. "I apologize, Inquisitor, but I have a general distaste with anyone with arrogance that amazingly equals their incompetence, you understand." They began to pass the camped out wardens that simply stared while they passed by.

He kept talking. "That may be, but you haven't seen me naked." A disgruntled groan escaped from her lips, and he grinned with satisfaction.

They reached a large tent. She pulled the canvas and pushed him in. Larson was there, looking down at a map laid bare on a table. When he saw Brady, he smiled like a smug snake. Dawson placed him in front of Larson as though he was part of a display.

"The other two?" Larson asked of Dawson.

"Under watch and surveillance." Dawson confirmed.

Larson nodded with approval. "Very good, Warden Dawson. Very good." He walked over to them and stood in front of Brady, sizing him up and examining him with his unnerving jet black eyes. "Now, Inquisitor, I'd like to know a few choice things…" He brought his armored fist to Brady's abdomen, causing even Dawson to wince, "What in the Maker's name are you planning?"

Brady replied, short of breath. "To kill you, eventually."

"You cannot kill a man who is already dead, Inquisitor." He laughed cynically. His eyes narrowed. "I'm sure Cousland would say the same. We wardens have no fear. We have been dead since our joining. That's what makes us _great_." Larson struck a finger into Brady's chest. "And you are going to ruin that. You are no liberator, no Maker sent hero here to save these wardens from their curse. You are a tyrant, attempting to take out another great order simply increase your own personal power."

"They should have the option, Larson. The only thing you're doing is taking that away from them. Some of these men and women have families, loved ones-"

Larson spat. "Do you believe I did not? Every single one of these wardens knew, Inquisitor, they knew what they were leaving behind. From Carinus to Garahel, sacrifice is a part of what we are, what we always have been. And for you to believe you can mock the lives of every former warden by taking that away?"

Brady scrunched his brows together, his voice growing with anger. "You ask any warden at your camp, Larson. Each and every one of them is absolutely terrified of their own calling. If they knew they had the option to be rid of it-"

"More like spit on ages and ages of warden tradition. But, what would you know of it, Inquisitor?" He walked over to his desk and picked up a journal. "I had my wardens in Ostwick do some digging." He scanned the words on the pages and mumbled. "I like to know who I'm up against." He closed the book and set it back on the desk and approached him once again. "Brady Trevelyan. Born and raised in Ostwick, named after your mother's maiden name." He put on a snake like smile. "Your real mother's maiden name." Brady looked down to the floor. Larson sized him up and continued to toy with him. "Sore topic? We could talk about the other bastards running around if you want."

"What do you want from me, Larson?"

Larson sucked on his teeth. "My scouts have found remnants of your various camps. It won't be long until we find their current one. I completely intend to crush them all under my heel. Though, I would much rather have your surrender. It would reflect terribly on me if I kill Andraste's chosen." He raised his chin. "Refuse, and we execute the three of you, then rid of anyone in your camp."

"I am sorry, First Warden, I have to call your bluff."

"Very well." He turned his attention to Dawson. "Take him back to his cage, and ready them for execution in the morning." He ticked his head to the side. "Have wine there. Red, preferably."

She looked at Brady, then back at the first warden, "Ser, we could negotiate with them-"

Larson brought his eyes back to Brady, staring at him with a tick of his tongue. "No, Warden. This must be done."

Dawson dropped her head, and began to lead Brady out of the tent. As they walked the camp, he shuffled to her side and spoke softly. She looked at him, then looked away just as quickly.

"You don't agree with this." Brady accused. "Dawson?"

"No." She snapped back with a sharp whisper. "I have my orders."

"That's funny, because a warden said the same thing to me before they almost created a _demon army._" She looked at him and clenched her jaw. Her green eyes were hard with contemplation. She looked around and noticed the bulk of wardens were now in the distance. He looked at her with earnest eyes. "Don't make this mistake."

She thought for but a second and retorted. "How certain are you that this is a mistake?" His lips pushed into a stern line. She continued. "What have you even accomplished here in the Anderfels? You could have left Weisshaupt alone and the world would still remain intact. This would have not escalated until your insistent involvement."

He lowered his voice. "Are you saying that you want a premature death when you have the choice to live longer?"

"We would all have been better off if the Warden-Commander did not make his discovery."

Brady hung his head and allowed her to continue on. The walk back to his holding felt like an eternity. He was now in a panic mode, trying to work every angle possible to get himself out of this one. Every scenario in his mind simply led back to a gut wrenching realization that maybe this time, there was no way out, and his fate was sealed.

As she opened up the gate door to his holding, she looked at him and adverted her eyes. "I'm sorry."

He nodded with a whisper. "Me too."

As she walked away, Damon and Hawke's eyes watched her disappear into the dark of the night, then directed their attention to Brady.

"Well," Hawke urged, "What did he want?"

"Our surrender." Brady answered.

Damon scoffed. "I hope you told him to shove it, that son of a bitch."

A dark chuckle escaped from Brady. "Yes, I did, actually."

"And then?"

"He slated our execution time for the morning." Brady replied.

Hawke leaned back and let out a breath. "Our execution, huh? Well, I have to say I did not see this coming."

"Wow," Damon exhaled. "I assume there's a plan?"

Brady fell to his side and laid against the dirt of the ground. He closed his eyes and replied softly. "No plan."

Damon half chuckled and shook his head. "Well, shit."

* * *

"…You are telling me that they are in trouble… again?"

"I do not believe I stuttered."

"But…" Cullen sighed. "There is no point in arguing."

Anders approached his right shoulder and scrunched his brows. "Did I hear that correctly?" He turned to face Morrigan, who was sitting outside of her tent nonchalantly with her arms crossed and golden eyes darting between the two men in front of her. "Hawke, is she alright?"

"I do not know the severity of the situation, though I know my warden is in distress and that he is close."

"We have to do something." He redirected his attention to Cullen. "If he has them, he'll kill them, Commander, without a second thought."

"That is madness, if he were to kill the inquisitor, he would be declared an enemy to the entirety of southern Thedas." Cullen huffed.

"And you doubt he isn't mad?" Anders shook his head. "I'd rather not leave this to theory."

"We cannot just push a full scale attack at any instant." Cullen argued. "Our soldiers are tired, perhaps in the morning… but now?"

"You are willing it risk it?" Anders growled. "And you?" He hissed at Morrigan. "What of Damon?"

Morrigan stood up. "Anders."

He looked at her, allowing her to notice his telling eyes. His brown eyes began to glow an electric blue. "I cannot allow this to happen."

Cullen took a few steps away and managed to keep his voice level. "Anders, calm down."

His electric eyes darted to Cullen, whose hand was on the hilt of his sword. Anders scoffed. "Planning to cut me down, Templar? How long have you been waiting to do that?"

"Do not tempt me, Anders."

Morrigan took place between the two of them. "Anders, focus."

"Morrigan, move." Cullen urged, raising his voice.

A voice approached behind Anders and took him to the ground. Carver.

"Brother," He held him pinned down against the dirt. "Think of Hawke, think of Gwen." Anders fought him, urging to escape his hold and spitting curses towards him. Carver's voice was calm, even. "Don't let this be the way she finds out you perished."

Anders eyes lost their light and he came down, his muscles relaxing against the ground underneath him. Carver got up, pulling up Anders as well. He stood in front of Cullen, who was still stern in a defensive position. "I- I apologize." He looked down and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That has not happened in a very long time." His voice broke. "She just- no harm can come to her, Commander. I do not know if I could endure that."

Cullen released his grip on his hilt and itched the growing stubble on his chin. "Morrigan, you will lead us to them. We ride at dawn."

* * *

Leliana sat in her tent and reread Josephine's letter with heavy contemplation. She pulled out a bottle of wine she had stowed away and drank from it.

_The Divine has shown interest in giving you an advisory role within the Cathedral,_ it read. She had neglected to tell Cullen, simply to avoid his obvious array of questions that would follow. Was this what the Maker wanted? For her to rejoin the ranks of the Chantry once again? She wasn't sure, but she knew what this would mean. She would be stationed in Orlais once again, indefinitely. It could be defined as another divine duty she must insist on indulging, however, she wasn't sure that was what she wanted anymore. She wasn't naïve enough to honestly believe the Inquisition would continue much after the visit to Halamshiral. In one way or another, it would come to an end. Rejoining the Chantry could be her next personal expedition, but her own ideas of what will become of her were much different. Perhaps it was time to lay down her insistent burden of her own faith and relax for a time. She thought of the villa she grew up, and how she found herself longing to be there once again, to simply feel the sun on her face and not have any world ending issues hanging over her head.

With another sip of wine, her muscles eased. It wasn't until Morrigan's voice was just outside of her tent that she tensed up and etched an unreadable expression on her face.

Morrigan let herself into the tent, with a cocky smile that was so familiar that Leliana couldn't help but sigh at.

"So, I met Justice not too long ago." Morrigan declared, taking a seat on a small wooden chair adjacent to Leliana. "I assume you would be interested. 'Tis not every day you see a functioning abomination ready to rip poor Cullen's throat out."

Leliana cocked her head. "Is he alright?"

"Aside from him almost running a blade through Anders… he is fine, yes." Morrigan raised a curious eyebrow to the parchment in Leliana's hand. "Now, what is that?"

"No interest to you, I'm sure." She retorted, folding it up and tucking it away.

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "And yet, it has driven you to a drink."

"Surely, this visit has a purpose, Morrigan."

"Indeed, it does." Morrigan folded her legs. "We are to launch an attack on the wardens in the morning. I was told to inform you."

Leliana shook her head. "I do not understand. Already?"

"It seems our lovely heroes have gotten themselves into another mess." She twisted the ring on her finger. "With the insistence of Anders," She snickered, "And Justice, Cullen decided that now is the time."

"You agree? It could be premature."

Morrigan's voice dropped into honesty. "I find myself… concerned... about Damon." She leaned back into the chair and averted her eyes. "Sometimes, I do believe he gets in over his head." She returned her golden eyes to Leliana. "Kieran would be quite upset if I do not bring his father back with me."

Leliana giggled into her glove. "You're worried, aren't you?"

"He is a grown man that can handle himself." Morrigan protested. "However, he is insufferably accustomed to needing my assistance. 'Twould be wrong to not accommodate, no?"

Leliana continued to chuckle. "You're worried."

She was expecting opposition, but instead, Morrigan answered softly. "Indeed, I am."

"I should document this, 'Morrigan had a feeling.'" Leliana joked.

"Laugh all you would like, but do not deny that you are, too." Morrigan scoffed. "Are you not in constant fear that one day, when they decide to play 'hero,' it just might actually get them killed?"

Leliana contemplated, then replied. "That is just who they are."

"And that, Leliana, is where you are wrong." Morrigan pointed at her, then clarified. "They believe that they must be the solution; that the world is constantly on their shoulders simply because before, that responsibility was thrusted on them. That does not always have to be the case."

"I don't think even I could sit the Inquisitor down for a moment without him rushing to someone's aid." Leliana teased. "I'm not sure if it's a virtue or a vice."

"They are one in the same, Damon and Brady."

"Perhaps they should ride off into the sunset together." Leliana laughed.

Morrigan cracked a smile. "'Twould make our lives easier, no doubt."


	11. Victory and Loss

Brady has been in near death situations one too many times for him to panic. He was numb, as he had grown to be in the face of death, but this time, here at the Grey Warden outpost, it seemed permanent. Defined. That idea alone made his heart race, but the worry on his face has been long lost and worn down to the passive expression of acceptance. Every time he made eyes with the camp, more wardens had appeared during the night. They were ready for a war, meaning the First Warden has some inclination of what will come for him when he takes Brady's head.

Hawke's eyes were bloodshot with purple rings growing dark underneath her eyes. She too, could not sleep. This time, there were no jokes to cheer herself up, no smile to hide behind, and no ale to numb her nerves. Her own magic was an annoyance in her cell, as the Templar's protection kept her ineffective, and her magic itching the inside of her skin to release from her body. She could hear the small whispers of demons, using a persuasive tongue to coerce her to lose herself to her own desperation and give in. She was skilled enough to shoo them away without a second thought, but the whispers only elevated the stoicism that had rarely grazed her face.

Damon looked wearily to Hawke and Brady. He recognized the loss of light in their eyes. He looked to the ring on his finger and could feel Morrigan was not far from him. She had rarely failed him, and he wasn't expecting her to start now. Morrigan. Damon sighed and rested his head against the bars of his cage. He needed to give up this life... for her, for Kieran. _How selfish could one person be?_ He asked himself. Running off and chasing some Maker-forsaken cure that could turn out to be nothing but a fluke? Constantly putting his son at risk of losing a parent, if not both? He couldn't do it, Kieran will not go through what he has, at least until The Calling begins its ominous ring in Damon's ears.

Brady heard the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned his head, but squinted to keep the kicked up dust out of his eyes. The morning sun's rays were already cracking light into the sky, and reflecting off the armor of the figures approaching.

"I don't suppose you could spare some water...?" Brady asked, his words as dry as the arid air.

They didn't answer, and continued to approach the makeshift cages. When they were close enough, Brady could make out three grey warden warriors, one with a greatsword attached securely on their back while the others had swords sheathed behind their shields. They came up and opened the cages, each one tasked with moving a certain captive. The two handed warrior warden clutched Brady's collar and forced him to his feet.

"Alright inquisitor," the warden had a heavy starkhaven accent. "Do not try anything, please."

"At least he's polite." Hawke scoffed.

Her warden escort gripped her closer by the spaces of her chestpiece. "Shut it, mage."

Hawke narrowed her eyes, "Templar? I hope you choke on your next lyrium fix."

The warden scrunched his face, causing deep wrinkles to manifest from the sides of his nose down to his chin and a frown.

"I'm sorry about this Warden-Commander," The final warden said to Damon with sincerity in his tone. "Orders are orders, you understand."

Damon didn't reply, simply nodding and allowing the warden to lead him out of the cage. The other wardens followed suit with Brady and Hawke in tow. Damon could see the crowd of wardens waiting for them at the camp, all staring at their approaching bodies. He could see the First Warden, standing with a corrupted pride possessing the crowd below him on an elevated platform.

"And here they are!" Larson laughed, clapping his hands together. "Wardens, the time has finally come. Finally, we will reclaim our respect and tenacity that these three 'heroes' continuously take from us."

They stopped below the platform, forced to look up to him.

Larson continued. "They have brought a army of radicals and defectors to our doorstep, begging for our blood." He kneeled down to them, and lowered his voice. "The quickest way to kill a dragon is to chop off it's head, is it not?"

The wardens muscled them up the short staircase and up to the platform. The First Warden watched with joy in his eyes, absorbing the sight of Thedas's finest heroes on their knees at his feet.

"Now Wardens, do we want to see the execution of these traitors of the order?!" He rallied. The crowd of wardens replied with cheers, giving Larson the sick encouragement he longed for.

Brady looked up to the First Warden, then shifting to the bloodthirsty crowd. He sneered, sickened by their reaction. Two years ago, he had saved this order from itself, and now they hungered for his head to roll. If there was any wardens that opposed his execution, they were mum in the crowd of thousands.

"Shall we start with the Warden-Commander of Ferelden? The very one who grew to detest what we stand for as Grey Wardens?" The First Warden's voice was eerily filled with satisfaction and malice.

Damon rose his chin up to make eye contact with Larson, his eyes full of hate for the man who stood above him. "Maker, don't you ever shut up?"

In that instant, Hawke's body burst with force from the fade, knocking everyone in her proximity back, and allowing her to free her bound hands.

The wardens began to storm the platform, only to be distracted by the cry of a high dragon circling above them.

Damon smiled, looking up at the high dragon as Hawke worked him out of his restraints, "That's my girl."

Damon hopped down from the platform and punched out a warden guard, taking his weapon and brandishing it in front of the approaching wardens.

Hawke fiddled with Brady's restraints as their circle of space began to close in on them as wardens attempted to storm the platform.

Brady growled, "Dammit, this is taking too long!" He looked at Damon, who was doing all he could to buy time. "Go help Damon! Run!"

Hawke nodded, and at her leave, he saw the wardens begin to surround him. With an exasperated heave, he opened a rift above him, and watched the life around him being sucked away into the abyss. He could feel the pull of the rift longing to consume him. He struggled to crawl and roll off the platform and join Hawke and Damon on the ground as the rift roared to be fed.

Damon looked at Brady and cut his restraints without hesitation, throwing him his shield. "Do something with it!"

Brady complied, protecting Hawke from blows as they began to cut through wardens in the crowd.

"Honey!" Damon yelled, running and waving at the sky, "A little help here!"

At his word, Brady could hear the high dragon's wings draw closer, swooping in and allowing a huge gust to knock the wardens in their path off their feet. Brady ran through, picking up a discarded sword and rushing into the camp. "We need to find Larson!"

Hawke huffed. "You don't think he was sucked into the rift?"

Damon scoffed, swinging his sword at an attacking warden than pressing on. "If anything, that bastard is resilient."

Brady could see his forces approaching, as the wardens were beginning to direct their attention to the invasion of his soldiers coming over the hills, looking like an invasion of silverite clouding the vista. Brady could feel the trembling of the ground as war horses and their riders rushed into battle with their weapons ready to demolish anything in their way. The wardens put up their fight, slashing at the horses legs and causing the riders to fly into skirmishes they had not been prepared for. Brady rushed through the camp, struggling to follow Damon through the crowd of wardens. He could feel their blades nipping at his skin as he sprinted towards the middle of the camp.

Brady ran towards Damon with all he had, until he was brought down by a brute, tackling him from his flank. Brady couldn't see through the dust that had been kicked up from his fall. Even as he couldn't catch his breath, he wrestled himself up to his feet and stared down the Grey Warden who walked up to him with a large axe in hand.

"Your head, Inquisitor." The Warden said, his voice muffled from his helmet. "Give me your head."

Brady clenched his jaw and braced for the strike the warrior was attempting. He swung his axe above his head and struck down on Brady, who rolled out of the way with only a second to spare. The warden was not discouraged, only stiffening his resolve and marching closer and closer to Brady. The axe came for Brady's neck, only to be blocked by the his longsword. The grey warden applied his weight onto his axe, bringing Brady onto his knees, using every ounce of strength he could muster to deflect the axe.

The pressure subsided suddenly, as the large warden let out a gasp. A blade showed itself through his abdomen and watched as he fell to his knees, his axe rattling against the sand. Brady scrambled back to his feet to see Hawke brushing herself off.

"I don't do that very often." Hawke grinned, grabbing the sword from the unanimated corpse. "You owe me a drink."

Brady came to her side, only after noticing that path she carved for herself with frozen wardens. "Where's Damon?"

Her eyes scanned ahead, where wardens were marching towards them. "Pick up that axe. Now."

He cursed, but did as she said, taking his place ahead of her and formulating a strategy as quick as possible. He looked at Hawke with a scowl. "We need to find him."

She replied through gritted teeth, "Well, Inquisitor, we have our own problems to deal with."

* * *

Damon rushed through the camp slaying his warden brothers and sisters as he sped by with tactical precision. None of them had a chance against the Hero of Ferelden, except for one, perhaps. He saw a large tent and ran into it, hoping to find the First Warden hiding like the coward Damon knew he was.

He rushed in and eyed the entire room. Nothing. Damon was only greeted to a bed and a large war table with papers scattered around its entirety. He spat, and ran his hand through his bloodied hair. "Where are you?"

"Here."

Damon jumped to the sound, turning toward it and holding his blade out. The First Warden stood proud, void of a weapon, and stepping towards Damon with a smug grin.

Damon raised his blade to Larson's neck. Larson didn't flinch, only letting out a small chuckle.

"I see. This is the respect I get." Larson snarled. "Always ungrateful."

Damon shook his head, "I can't wait to kill you-"

Larson laughed in his face, leaning against the blade, "You won't kill me, Warden. You're going to let me go. Expunge me from all involvement. Every report you write, ever letter, every word - none of it will have mention of me."

"You're insane if you think that." Damon applied pressure to his blade, drawing a drop of blood from Larson's neck. "I'm going to take great pleasure watching your head roll, First Warden. For every Grey Warden lost because of your guidance, it is for them I will separate your head from your shoulders, you manipulative bastard."

Larson's breath hitched and he spoke quickly, "Kill me and you'll doom the world."

Damon's face scrunched. "You're mad."

"Your pretty wife. Your son. Your unborn daughter..." The first warden watched as Damon's jaw clenched in confusion. "This world is about to find its grotesque destruction. I have one of the many keys to save it."

"Unborn daughter?" Damon's head cocked to the side. "Destruction? Speak sense!"

"You have to let me go, Damon." Larson smiled. "It's the only way."

"Dammit, tell me!" Damon growled.

"Lower your blade." Larson commanded.

Damon shook his head and complied.

"Good boy." Larson exhaled. Heading to his war table, he cringed at the sound of swords bouncing off each other, and the sleek sound of blade cutting flesh and drawing drops of blood onto the sand. "Do you hear the fighting because of you, Damon? If you only knew what we were up against, you would understand why we need the wardens. A cure will relieve them of the abilities they will need for dark times, and these are dark times. The taint is the key, as is the griffons."

"The griffons, where are they?" Damon demanded.

"In good hands, I assure you." The first warden collected his papers and placed them in a satchel. "I'm not a monster, Damon. I'm doing what is necessary."

"Your men are dying. _My _men are dying. End this madness, call off your wardens!"

Larson shook his head. "This is a small sector of wardens. A little over a thousand. Their deaths at the hands of the Inquisition will only add to the rally to have their order disbanded." Larson looked at Damon. "And with no official orders from me, it only looks as though rogue wardens stood up to the inquisition... or the inquisition picked the fight personally. What people assume won't matter, the inquisition needs to end."

"I can't just let you go, those are my friends. I won't lie to them either." Damon approached the war table with defiance in his steel eyes.

"Then I need you to _forget_."

* * *

Cullen rode into the eye of the storm, his eyes scanning for any sign of Brady. He watched the wardens fall around him, being bludgeoned by his men. The wardens resolve was weak, their morale desperately low. Cullen could feel the strength of the many buckle underneath the Inquisition's force. It didn't feel right. This wasn't a war, this was slaughter, and his troops were the butchers of the innocent. He shook his head, blaming the lack of sleep for his pitied thoughts.

A rider came up on his left riding a brown haired mare. Leliana.

"Have you seen them?" She asked, trying to speak over the galloping.

He shook his head.

Leliana's heart dropped. She looked ahead and sped past Cullen. He had screamed her name, but she ignored him, pressing forward into the battle. Her eyes scanned for any sign of Brady, but the corral of tents made it near impossible to see or maneuver through. She huffed, and jumped off her horse, joining two ferelden soldiers in a losing scuffle. Leliana pulled her daggers out from their sheathes on her hips, twirling them in the faces of the wardens and keeping her stance aggressive.

The warden thrust his blade downward, only to be outmaneuvered by Leliana, who rolled away and stuck two daggers quickly into the warden's leg. He grimaced and buckled, taking another sloppy swipe of his sword at her kneecap. She hopped and finished him off, stabbing into his shoulder with one blade and slitting his throat with the other.

"Brutal, Nightingale." She heard Varric's voice from behind. "Have you seen Hawke?"

She shook her head. "The inquisitor?"

He shot a bolt into the head of an approaching warden. "No. Blondie went to find them. If he starts to glow, back away slowly."

She nodded, and continued pressing into the camp. She could see remnants that pointed to Hawke. Frozen wardens, some shattered and stained with blood. She began to follow the path of ice, only to be distracted by the howl of the dragon circling above.

"Why doesn't she get down here and help?" Leliana mumbled. She clicked her tongue, "Show off."

She dipped and dodged through the brawls enclosing the camp. The close quarters combat was claustrophobic, crowding all corners of the camp with deadly quarrels. The trail of wardens came to an abrupt stop in what she assumed to be the middle of the camp. The tents were larger here than the outer ring, and were still standing, much to her surprise. Her eyes darted all around, still seeing no sign of Brady. She exhaled hard, attempting to expel any nerves that were starting to coil around her chest. She could hear the crunch of rubble under someone's boot, coming from her flank. She drew her bow and aimed it at the warden approaching. The warden approached cautiously, swinging the blade in her hand to intimidate.

"Leliana," the warden acknowledged her through her helmet. "Is that anyway to treat an old friend?"

Leliana kept her guard up, narrowing her eyes at the approaching warden. She could hear the soft orlesian accent hiding behind the helmet. The familiarity, even in the muffled warden helmet, was too much for Leliana to disregard.

The warden began to lower her blade, "I suppose you go by nightingale now, no?"

"I thought you dead." Leliana said, in a tone only bigger than a whisper.

She raised her visor, coming closer to Leliana. "That is what Marjolaine would have wanted."

"She's dead."

"I know." The warden raised her blade again. "This is no time for idle chatter, I must find the Inquisitor."

Leliana kept her bow trained and cocked an eyebrow. "The Inquisitor? State your interest."

The warden shook her head, bringing her green eyes to Leliana's with sincerity. "Even I know he mustn't die in the skirmish."

Leliana lowered her bow and nodded. "Be sure he is safe. That they all are."

"If we should be so lucky."

The warden joined the mix of soldiers and wardens, not raising her sword to either, but skillfully avoiding the fighting just as Leliana remembered she could, and did so well in her time in Orlais.

Desdemona Dawson, a woman that Leliana knew from a life ago, finally found in the ranks of the wardens. Whether she was an enemy or ally was still a debatable position in Leliana's mind. With a sudden haste, Leliana began follow her through the scuffle, hoping she could lead her to Brady.

"Leliana?" She heard from behind, stopping her chase and redirecting her attention.

She turned to see Damon stumble out of a tent, weaponless.

He looked at her with sullen grey eyes, barely able to stand. "Leliana?" He repeated, almost falling to his knees.

She rushed to his side and helped him to stand. "What happened to you?"

"I-" He looked at her, his face scrunched as he tried to find his mind. "I don't know."

"We need to get you to safety." She decided, leading him away from the fighting.

He nodded, and allowed her to support his weight.

* * *

Cullen had dismounted and discarded his horse, his eyes scanning the battlefield for any familiar face. He began to feel worry corrupt his stomach, churning it unpleasantly. They were winning this battle, he could deduce that easily, but that does not mean casualties wouldn't be severe. What if Brady had fallen? He knew they were quick to reach them, faster than he even expected, but war does not care about careful planning or luck; it takes, and seldom gives back.

He saw Anders, flicking his wand at approaching wardens. He joined his side, protecting his flank as best as he could.

"Teeth clenched teamwork, huh Cullen?" Anders quipped, keeping his eyes on his targets.

Cullen chuckled darkly, "Oh, you have no idea."

As the last warden fell to a fire blast from Anders's staff, he looked to Cullen. "Have you seen anyone else?"

Cullen shook his head. "I'm still looking for Brady."

"As I am looking for Gwen."

Cullen began to speak, but paused abruptly before words came out. He rushed to a figure in the distance. Anders watched as Cullen sped away, and when his eyes met with what was approaching, his heart froze and dropped into his stomach.

"No." Anders let out, and ran behind Cullen.

Brady was holding Hawke, limp in his arms, and walking towards them. His body was coated in blood, only deepening the cuts Anders could feel deep in his chest. Hawke's blonde hair was colored crimson, caked onto her long locks.

"I tried-" Brady shook his head. "Maker, I tried."

Anders pushed Cullen out of the way, "Give her to me, now."

Brady placed her in his arms without a second of hesitation. Anders looked to her, his eyes wide, and began to examine her body.

"What happened to her? What did you do?" He growled, as his fingers began to descend down her lifeless body to cast healing spells.

Brady did not answer. Cullen looked at him with worry, but Brady did not look back. He stood there with a thousand mile stare into the abyss of his own mind. His hand was glowing a sickly green and illuminating his forearm. Cullen grabbed onto Brady's shoulders, attempting to receive any sort of reaction, but was met with nothing.

Cullen looked at Anders and spoke stoically. "Time to fall back and allow Morrigan to finish the camp off." Anders did not answer, keeping all of his attention on Hawke and his spells.

"Anders!" Cullen called once again for his attention. "Send the beacon, dammit. I'll get her to safety."

Anders looked up to him with scorn. "You must."

Cullen scooped Hawke's body into his arms and led her away from the camp. Anders raised his staff and energy began to flow through him and out of his staff, marking the sky with a bright beacon that could be seen for miles.

Anders began to follow behind Cullen, giving him covering fire as they hustled to the hills.

Brady stood there, his attention catching the retreating soldiers heading away from the camp. He looked down at his hand, the only thing he could feel. The pain was scorching, tearing away at his flesh from the inside and begging for a claim to more of his arm. He made no cry of pain, no plea to the Maker. He found himself wanting it all to end. What had perspired within the hours of the day seemed to have broke him, and he deserved whatever punishment the maker was bound to give him.

A soft voice grazed his ear. He could feel pressure on his shoulder. "Inquisitor, we must go."

He saw Dawson giving him a look of urgency. Without a word, he nodded.


	12. Fame and Misfortune

Brady followed Dawson threw a forest of dead trees and cracked shrubs, pushing through the coarse brush and trying his damnedest not to get a foot caught in any of the dead roots that carpeted the area. A light mist of rain made the scene slick enough he felt one wrong move would render him tumbling onto the rough forest floor.

"Wait, Dawson wait!" Brady ordered, panting in exhaustion, "Where are we going?"

She halted, and sighed. She ran towards him and threw an arm over his shoulder, urging him to continue. He pushed her off and shuffled his shoulders, his eyes narrowing into hers.

He huffed, "Where are we going? Where are you taking me?"

"Do you want to end this or not?" She asked of him, her voice sharp and accusing.

He nodded, and with that, Dawson pressed on and he continued to follow. She moved with finesse and ease, vaulting over any obstacles in her way. Brady managed as best as he could, however, he was injured. With every step, his mark pulsated and burned his entire arm. The pain was distracting, but his own determination would not allow him to quit. If Dawson was right, he could end this and finally finish what he had started, here and now.

He could see a clearing ahead of him, and rushed to it at Dawson's urge. The rain had picked up, rolling down his muddy face and created small streams down the creases of his face, allowing for his brow of sweat to cascade down and sting his eyes.

He reached the clearing and saw what he was promised. The First Warden. Though not as he expected. Larson was on horseback facing Brady with a smug smirk. Warden Adler was there as well, accompanied by other wardens whose armor was unscratched by battle and hoisted proudly on chestnut mares. They had been waiting for him for a time. Did Dawson know of this? He was unaware. He brought his speed to a walk and approached the adversaries with a false confidence.

"Inquisitor, finally," Larson said, "I was beginning to worry Dawson would have failed me."

Brady watched as Dawson joined Larson's side, leaving Brady to stand alone. He clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into balls at his side. "Larson, will you not face me? Man to man?"

Larson laughed, "Ah, Inquisitor. Are you proud of what you have wrought?"

Brady stiffened, his lip twitched into a sneer. "Do you see what you have done? What you have caused?"

Larson stood quiet for but a second, then continued, "I am not at fault here. However, I have served a purpose you cannot comprehend… yet, anyway."

Brady walked up to him with quick steps, standing discouraged from the sound of other wardens unsheathing their swords and pointing them towards Brady. He narrowed his eyes and watched the wardens, who were undeterred by the look of disgust on the Inquisitor's face.

"What is the meaning of this, First Warden? I demand answers, dammit!"

"A very good friend of yours urged me not to kill you," Larson dismounted and approached Brady, shoving his chest and pressing him away from the other riders. "However, I have done my duty: Sabotage the cure and have your inquisition disbanded." Larson grabbed the metal collar of Brady's armor and pushed him off of his feet. "You will just so happen to be a casualty of that, so I do not mind."

Brady shuffled away and brought himself to his feet, drawing his sword and baring his teeth, "The inquisition will do no such thing."

The First Warden laughed once again, "Are you truly sure of that? You do not think I know of Ferelden and Orlais breathing down your neck? It is only a matter of time before they find your 'faithful' organization a nuisance that needs to be purged." He approached Brady, drawing his own sword. "Your death will ensure of it."

Dawson raised her voice, "That was not our deal with the elf, First Warden!"

"Dawson, my dear, what did you expect? Be a dear and keep your mouth shut, just this once." Larson snickered.

She drew her sword and stood between them, "I have stood with you through this madness, First Warden. But this… this is wrong." She shook her head, "I would have no have brought him here if I had known of your intent."

"Step aside, Warden," Larson sneered.

"No." She detested.

Larson shrugged, and waved his hand. At his beckon, his wardens joined his sides, blades ready. "Very well."

Brady pressed Dawson back as Larson lunged towards her with a strong strike. Brady deflected the blow, but not without difficulty. He pushed the First Warden off of his blade and put him off balance. Larson shrugged the hit off, and nodded, commanding the wardens at his side to attack both Dawson and Brady.

Brady found a blade demanding to strike on his left. He parried, and struck the warden behind his knee, causing him to collapse and fall to his knees. Brady brought his blade down hard enough to cause a quake onto the warden's exposed neck, and looked away as the warden's head began to roll.

Brady looked up to see the First Warden charge towards him with his shield, knocking Brady off of his feet and launching Brady's sword away. Larson jumped atop of Brady and discarded his weapon, bringing his armor plated fists into Brady's face.

Brady's sight grew blurred from the blood and the rain pooling on his face. With strength grown from desperation, Brady rolled away from Larson and forced himself to his feet.

He shot a quick glance Dawson's way, who was preoccupied with Adler and another nameless warden. His attention was once caught by Larson again when a jab placed itself on Brady's jaw.

Brady stepped back and spat out the blood that was collecting inside of his mouth. He squared up, causing an amused grin to graze Larson's lips.

"You don't quit," Larson quipped, "Must get it from your whore of a mother."

Brady forced a heavy punch at Larson, only for Larson to counter with a quick jab into Brady's gut. Brady winced, and threw another fist aimed towards Larson's exposed chin. It connected, but came at a consequence as Brady growled in pain as his marked hand flared and brought a crippling wave of pain up his left arm. Larson took advantage, laying down a heavy assault of precise strikes onto Brady, brutally mangling his will to continue.

Brady held his marked hand out, and as the power surged, it consumed the entirety of his arm. The bolts of emerald flickered against his exposed skin. Power poured into the mark, and a small explosion erupted from Brady's hand, knocking Larson back.

Larson's eyes grew dark as a starless night. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. "Very well, Inquisitor," He growled, "I did not want it to come to this."

Brady watched as a bright crimson aura surrounded Larson. He could the bones of his crunch as his body distorted into a ghastly horror, growing exponentially in size.

A pride demon.

Brady scurried towards his sword that laid a few feet away from him. Larson approached, every monstrous step shaking the ground around him.

Brady grabbed his sword and rolled away from the cataclysmic stomp Larson pressed into the Earth.

"Maker," Brady breathed as he watched the abomination turn and make direct eye contact with him.

"He will not help you now," Larson taunted. He stomped towards Brady. Suddenly, Larson growled in pain as Brady heard the sound of a blade slicing through flesh. Larson turned and let out a menacing chuckle, "Ah, Dawson."

He swiped at Dawson, sending her body across the open field. Brady's jaw clenched in anger, and he charged at Larson, swiping his blade at Larson's abdomen and using the slicked, muddied ground to slide between Larson's legs.

Larson swung his arms and roared as Brady parried and stabbed into Larson's thigh. The abomination kneeled and attempted to catch Brady within its elongated claws. Brady pivoted and dodged Larson's attempt at a strike and laid another hit onto Larson's chest.

Blood began to spill onto the ground. With an aggravated grunt, Brady rounded Larson and dug his blade into Larson's back, down to the hilt.

With an agonizing yelp, Larson collapsed and fell prone onto the ground. Brady dug his blade out of Larson's back and slid onto the ground. His breaths were heavy as he attempted to rise to his feet.

Larson still drew breath, though it was shallow and full of pain.

Brady wiped his pain from blood and began to rush to Dawson's aid, only to be stopped by Larson's words.

"Tell….Solas…" Larson spoke, "To…die… in… the void." At his last words, Larson went limp.

Brady stood, frozen. Solas? How would that even be possible? The elven mage, and his dear friend, has been gone for a little over two years, how could his name have any place in the last words of the first warden?

Brady shook his head, and pressed the problem to the back of his head. Dawson laid wounded, and he needed to tend to her.

He trudged through the mud and fell at her side. He was breathing, but barely. He turned her onto her back.

"Dawson? Dawson!" Brady shook her shoulders. "Come on, talk to me!"

She groaned, allowing Brady for a sigh of relief. "Inquisitor…"

He attempted to lift her, "We have healers at the camp, they can-"

"No, Brady." She protested. She looked down at her bloodied hand that was concealing a deep cut in her abdomen. She coughed, "Cut right through my armor."

Brady's eyes were wide on the laceration. He shook his head, "Dawson, I could-"

She closed her eyes and tried to speak, but only let out a short gasp. Her breathing ceased, and she fell limp in Brady's arms. His head fell as he placed her back onto the earth. He stood up slowly and limped towards Larson's mare. He dropped his sword and mounted the horse, staring up at the black sky and closing his eyes as the rain began to wash away to mud and blood that collected on his addled face.

With blind thought, he directed the horse and rode away from the clearing.

* * *

"Get her on the table now, Cullen!" Anders demanded, rushing to the end of the tent and collecting every poultice and potion his hands could manage.

Cullen laid Hawke down gently. Her breathing was shallow as her limp body laid lifeless on the table. He uttered a silent prayer, begging the Maker and Andraste for her life. Seeing Hawke like this was new to him. Even in her early days in Kirkwall, he had known her to be indestructible, as though the Maker himself had blessed her with his personal protection. Now, she was before him, unmoving and staring death down with drawn eyes.

Anders rushed to the table, shouldering Cullen out of his way. His hands began to glow a blinding blue as they scaled her body.

"Come on, love, please," Anders pleaded. His frustration and determination surfaced on his face as he began to pulsate more magic through his body. "Don't you leave me," he whispered, "Maker, don't let her leave me."

Cullen watched helplessly. As Anders's attempts began to look futile, he could not sit by idly anymore. He puffed a sigh full of sorrow, "Allow me to grab more healers."

"No," Anders said softly, "I need you to administer the potions."

"Okay," Cullen joined his side, "What would you like me to do?"

Anders paused, then shook his head. "She is unable to swallow them. You're going to have to inject them into her bloodstream, just as addiction addled Templars do when ordinary methods do not suffice. Do you know how to?"

"Unfortunately," Cullen admitted. He pulled out a small dagger from its sheath and tore away the armor and clothing on her arm, exposing veins that were lit with a dim emerald hue. "Anders…"

Anders drew his attention to Cullen, then Hawke's arm. "Maker," He looked to Cullen with haste in his eyes, "You need to inject her with the health potions, now."

Cullen grabbed the potion and the syringe from off the table. He plunged it into the potion, collecting the sluggish liquid and pushing the needle into Hawke's arm.

He watched as her body reacted to the potion. Hawke's veins plumped and protruded. The green tint dulled and disappeared. Anders casted a spell that bathed the room with a blinding light. A small explosion from his hands pushed them back a few steps, and then, a deafening silence.

Anders rushed to her body, caressing her face and swiping wisps of blonde hair from her face. "No, no no no. Please Gwen. Do not give up on me… please." He rested his head on her chest, mumbling apologies and curses to the Maker.

Cullen hung his head and looked away. He may have not liked Anders, but his pity grew too much to bare.

A labored breath escaped Hawke's lips, bringing Cullen's gaze to the table. Anders looked to Hawke's face. She scrunched her nose and groaned. Hawke licked her lips and groaned.

"Did… did we win?" She said, her voice sounding like carriages over gravel.

Anders beamed a smile and pressed rapid kisses on her lips. Green eyes peered through the slits of her clenched eyelids. Her brows furrowed and she let out another groan, "Anders, you're crushing me."

He stood up, still holding a bright smile. He turned to Cullen, whose face bore relief. Anders nodded with appreciation, "Thank you, Cullen."

"None needed." Cullen waved him off and headed towards the exit. "I'll leave you two alone for the time being. I'll inform your friends you live, Hawke. I'm sure they'll want to see you."

* * *

"What is your name?"

"Damon William Cousland."

"Where are you?"

"F-Ferelden."

"What is the year, Warden Cousland?"

"9:32."

"Thank you, Damon. I am going to need you to stay in this tent for but a moment. Can you do that for me?" The mage asked.

"What is Leliana doing here?" Damon's face scrunched as he stared down at the floor.

"Damon," The mage stood up from his chair and placed his parchment and quill onto the table. "You need your rest. I will be back shortly."

Damon nodded, and laid down on the bed, shutting his eyes tight. The mage watched and sighed, slightly hanging his head as he exited the tent.

Leliana stood just outside. At the mage's exit, she approached him. "Well?" She prodded, "What is wrong with him?"

"Warden Cousland is showing drastic signs of amnesia. He is unaware of where he is and _when_ he is for that matter."

"Meaning?" Leliana asked impatiently.

"Meaning he believes it to be 32 Dragon," The mage pulled at his sleeves. "He hasn't sustained any type of head injury, so that begs that question: What else can wipe a man's life of eleven years?"

"Magic," Leliana deduced.

"That is my exact suspicion, Lady Nightingale. More tests will be run as soon as Anders is able. He is tending to Serah Hawke as of now."

Leliana began to speak, only to be interrupted by a distant, worried bellow from Morrigan. She turned to the sound, and making eye contact with Morrigan's widened eyes. Morrigan maneuvered through the celebrating soldiers and approached Leliana.

Morrigan paused, her eyes darting between Leliana and the mage outside of the tent. "Where is my husband?" She said with worry soaking each word.

Leliana hesitated, only increasing the tension showing on Morrigan's face. She took a breath. "Morrigan…"

"Where is he?" She said sternly.

"Lady Morrigan," The mage spoke up, "I will explain. You must lower your voice however."

"You will not command me to lower my voice and you will not parry my question any longer." She crossed her arms. "Where is he?"

"He is resting inside the tent," The mage replied.

Morrigan began to barrel into the tent. Leliana stepped in and stopped her. Morrigan's face scrunched. "Leliana, I will strike you down where you stand."

Leliana looked at Morrigan with sorrow, "You cannot see him, Morrigan. Not yet."

"And why not?"

"Morrigan I do not know how to tell you-"

The mage spoke up, "Warden Cousland is suffering from severe amnesia. It seems he's lost some eleven years of his memory."

Morrigan's head snapped to Leliana and she took a step back. Leliana watched as wheels turned in Morrigan's head.

"You are dismissed, mage. Give us a moment," Leliana ordered.

Morrigan watched as the mage turned and departed. She flicked her eyes back to Leliana. "Eleven years ago, that's- "

"A year after we defeated the blight, yes," Leliana confirmed.

"And I was-," Morrigan voice hung with a whisper.

Leliana nodded, unaware of the words to say. Morrigan rested her head in her hand and shut her eyes. Leliana stiffened and finally replied, "Until Anders is ready to evaluate him we do not know what exactly is wrong with him. We suspect magic."

"I wish to see him," Morrigan demanded, her voice wavering.

Leliana's brow scrunched. "It will be too much of a shock, Morrigan. You know this." Morrigan paced backwards. Leliana relaxed and let out a breath, "Go to your tent, Morrigan. I will inform you right when things change."

"I know what you are thinking, Leliana. What I have done to him- what I did to him- matters naught," Her voice hitched, "He- loves me. 'Tis unclear why, but even when we were apart he loved me, and it haunted me every night I was away. I refuse to lose any more time."

"I know, Morrigan," Leliana acknowledged with a nod.

"We will fix this, and soon," Morrigan said, turning away and returning to her tent.

Leliana took a deep breath and entered the makeshift ward. She poked her head and spoke softly, "Damon?"

He rustled and turned to greet her with a smile. "Leliana. Maker it's good to see you again, don't get me wrong, but what in the void are you doing here in Ameranthine?"

She walked toward where he laid and took a seat at the foot at the bed. "You look… well."

He cocked his head, "Why… wouldn't I?"

She shook her head and laughed, "Just paying you a compliment."

He smiled and scrunched his brows. "I must've went on a bender with Oghren last night because my head is _pounding._ And to wind up at some random warden camp? This has Oghren written all over it. Where is he?"

"He's drinking with the other wardens, last I checked."

"He doesn't stop. Dumb for me to try to keep up with him."

Leliana raised a brow, "Do you remember when we drank at The Pearl after Alistair's coronation?"

Damon laughed, "How could I forget? One of the girls almost broke Oghren's hand after he touched them." He threw his head back on the pillow, "I talked about Morrigan all night. Must've been annoying… ah, I wonder how she is."

Leliana steeled her face and grinned, "Most likely stealing candy from a baby, if I could guess."

Damon sighed and fell deep into thought.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know, I'm sorry. She just- you know what she does." He sat up, "I have scouts on the lookout for her, Maker willing."

Leliana's curiosity piqued. "What would you do if you found her?"

He sighed, "I don't know." He twisted the ring on his finger, "Sometimes I feel like it'd be easier to just… forget about her."

Leliana swallowed hard. "Damon, you don't believe that."

He pulled on a sullen smirk, "Yeah, I know." His attention was pulled by Anders walking in. "Anders? You should be hunting down stragglers with Nate right now."

"Sorry, Commander," Anders caught himself. "Damon."

Leliana stood up. "How is Hawke?"

"Stable."

"Thank the maker," Leliana breathed a sigh of relief.

"Our friends are with her right now, playing Wicked Grace. When I heard about… this… I had to see it for myself."

Leliana headed for the exit, but murmured something into Anders's ear. "Fix this. Or else Morrigan will blow this place up."

Anders looked to Damon and replied, "Noted."


	13. Go Home

"Damon, I need you to listen to me," Anders took a seat next to his friend and let out a sigh, "You have had an accident."

Damon shook his head with a chuckle, "Anders, I don't know what you're-"

"It is 43 Dragon," Anders kept his voice stable and calm, "And there is some sort of magic hold on your memories. We are trying to figure out how to undo the magic, but it might take some time. Do you understand?"

"Forgive me if the concept is hard to understand."

"Perhaps, someone else could catch you up much better than I."

Anders directed his attention to the opening of the tent, and Morrigan showed herself, her steps lacking her usual confidence that soaked her strides.

"Damon," She breathed, and quickly drew him into a hug.

His eyes were wide as he saw her before him, touching her skin that he had thought was just a memory to him. He reciprocated her tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her and breathing her in. He had missed her scent, that intoxicating air that she emitted that had haunted his nights and was a ghost in the back of his mind every morning.

"How-," He whispered, "I've been searching for you. You left. You left _me._"

"I know," She choked out.

He pulled away, his face distorting in anger, "You took our child, Morrigan, and now you show up out of nowhere."

"'Tis not out of nowhere, my warden. We have been together for years now. You found me, and we spent a time in the crossroads, raising our son, Kieran."

"We- we have a son."

She nodded, "Yes, and he misses his father, very much. 'Tis why we need to fix this, return your memories, then depart to Highever to rejoin him and your brother."

"How old is he? Our son?"

"Twelve," she replied, "Almost thirteen."

"Maker," He exhaled. He brought his attention to Anders, "You must find a way to retrieve my memory, Anders. I do not want the time we shared to be lost any longer."

"There is nothing my magic can do to reverse this," Anders declared, "But, may I suggest, Morrigan, that if anybody is going to be able undo the block of magic withholding his memories, it would be you. With all of your… ahm… knowledge crammed in there, it would be invaluable."

"Now you are speaking sense," Morrigan quipped.

"For now, I will give you two your privacy, it seems like you might need to catch up on a few things."

Anders walked out of the tent, leaving the two of them alone at last. Damon saw how her golden eyes were distraught, tired in their sockets as dark rings circled around them.

"How did I manage to find you, and when?"

She took a seat beside him on the cot, grabbing his hand with warm, light squeeze and intertwining his fingers with his.

"'Twas not easy for you, and I mistakenly made it so," She admitted, avoiding his gaze, "But you must understand I never left because of you. I needed to protect you and Kieran from Flemeth."

"You, an elven woman, and a young mage managed to track me down to a working eluvian. And you, with your annoyingly, undying determination and dumbfounded love for me decided to join me in raising Kieran, in-between worlds for a very long time."

"I told you I would."

She chuckled, "That you did."

"Morrigan, I would have followed you to the end of the world, why would you leave me behind?"

"'Tis exactly why I had to leave you behind. You had your duties as a warden, and I had my own. 'Twas a mistake, I know that now, and to this day I still regret it deeply. Every time you and Kieran shared a moment, shared a laugh, a story, I see what I tried to deprive you of. And you, you just took everything with such a stride, accepting the responsibility and even forgiving me. I just hope you still feel that way."

"It's because I love you, dammit," He said, "I loved you during the blight. Even when you left, no matter how much it killed me to admit it, I loved you to the point of madness. And now, Maker, I see you for what feels like the first time in forever and I'm angry… I'm so angry for what you did. But, I still am so in love with you and I'm pissed off about it."

"You mustn't be," She looked into his steely eyes with sincerity, "We lived a beautiful life for an entire decade, raising Kieran and being the family you always wanted." Her brows furrowed, "Until _you _decided to leave us to find some forsaken cure to the Calling."

He huffed, "No, no no. This is so typical of you! You can't turn this on me when I don't even remember doing it!"

An uninvited laugh escaped from her chest, and she saw him smile. "I suppose it is not entirely your fault, I did help you reach the revelation of a cure."

"That's my girl," He nudged her with his shoulder, "Did we ever… uh, did I ask you-"

"For my hand?" She finished, "Oh, yes. Numerous times. I still do not understand why you insisted for such a label, I mean we were happy, was that not enough?"

He cocked his head to the side, and she stopped herself.

"Yes, after the hundredth time and you using your parents as the means to guilt me into it, I agreed. We had a small ceremony at Highever. Kieran bore the rings," She toyed with a diamond encrusted ring on her finger. "I enjoyed it more than I thought, and you were overjoyed."

He smiled sincerely, his grin dripping into a smirk. "I got you to marry me."

She nodded, "Yes, yes, now stop your gloating."

"And Kieran… our son," He asked, "What is he like?"

She paused for a moment, then smiled, "He acts just as you do. Curious, intelligent, and much too adventurous for his own good. His looks, however, are entirely me, to which he is quite lucky."

"You know, it's not too late for me to be mad at you," He jested.

She grinned warmly, "I do not mind if you are angry, my warden, you certainly have the right to be," She leaned in, breathing in his distinct smell of iron and a breeze coming off of the sea, "As long as you indeed love me."

His eyes flickered to her dark and desiring merlot lips, and succumbed to her intentions. He pressed his lips against hers and felt her arms press him against her, begging to close any distance between him. He wrapped his fingers into her hair, deepening his kiss. When kissing her, it felt as though they became one, instinct dictating their every move.

He lingered on her lips and smiled, "Feels like the first time."

"Trust me, my warden, it always does."

He hummed, "What do we do now?"

"We go home."

* * *

"Maker is that…. The inquisitor! He has arrived!"

"Maker, He's alive!"

"Get a healer, now!"

"Fetch Sister Leliana at once!"

Brady trotted into camp, barely able to keep his eyes open. The world around him was a blur, and the sharp nagging of pain had consumed his body. He fell off of the chestnut mare and shuffled through the camp, his steps slow.

The voices around him were muddy, as though he had water caught in his ears. He could hear the ring of Leliana's name echo through the camp, but could not make out her voice alone. He ignored the helping hands of soldiers attempting to keep him upright, shaking them off and gripping one's shoulders.

"Where is Serah Hawke?" He breathed.

The inquisition soldier was at a loss for words, staring at Brady's battered face, dumbfounded.

Brady repeated, shaking the soldier's shoulders. "Hawke, where is she, soldier?"

"In… in the med bay, your worship."

Brady thanked the soldier and pushed him away. He pushed himself towards the med bay and pressed into the camp with urgency.

He was greeted by the bewildered faces of Hawke's closest friends, all their mouths agape with shock as the inquisitor shuffled into the tent and pulled on a short smile to see Hawke sitting up and well, holding wicked grace cards close to her chest.

"You're okay, thank the maker," He exhaled, holding his smile despite the painful stress it was putting onto the cuts that cluttered his face.

Hawke gulped, "I wish I could say the same. Brady, what happened to you?"

Varric stood up and attempted to support Brady's weight, "Inquisitor, you look like shit."

Carver joined him, swinging one of the inquisitor's arms over his shoulders and leading him to a makeshift chair that sat against the canvas of the camp. Brady fell into the chair with a groan, gripping his side.

"I am so sorry, Hawke. If I had known-," Brady forced out between pained breaths.

Hawke stood up and signaled for the others to leave as Leliana, Cullen, and a group of armored inquisition mages took residence in the tent.

Leliana's anger of Brady disappearing into battle alone waded when she saw him once again. He looked terrible. The sight of his wounds only allowed for a grimace from her, but he was alive, and that alone was enough.

A weight had lifted off of Cullen's shoulders upon seeing Brady. He looked no worse than he would during a bad bout with a rift, or when he had accidentally slid down a cliff on the wounded coast. What had bothered Cullen was the past time between his intervention into the battle and now. He did not know where Brady disappeared to, or what he had done to Hawke at the warden outpost. He desperately wanted the questions answered, but suppressed his curiosity.

Brady waved them off as they began to remove his armor. "Please, no magic."

Cullen furrowed his brows, "Are you mad?"

"He's right," Hawke spoke up from her cot, "No magic."

Leliana and Cullen looked at her as a wave of confusion fell upon everyone besides Brady and Hawke. Cullen ordered the mages out. They complied, filing out of the tent to attend his order.

"Cullen," Hawke said, "Do not let Anders into this tent for the time being. He will do something rash if he sees the inquisitor before I explain things to him."

"Over my dead body," Leliana spat.

Cullen placed a calming hand on Leliana's shoulder and nodded, piecing her meaning in his head. After what he had seen during the revival of Hawke, he knew who Anders blamed for her previous condition. He proceeded to guard the outside of the tent.

Brady shook his head slightly, "He has every right to want to kill me."

"There will come a time for explanations, for now," Leliana began to unhinge Brady's armor, throwing it to the side of the tent. She pulled off one gauntlet at a time. His left hand was glowing through his gauntlet with an unsettling tint of green. She gulped hard, and pulled it off swiftly.

His mark had infected his arm up to his elbow. He looked down at it and shuddered. The pain emulating from the mark was unbearable enough to distract the discomfort of his bloodied face and broken ribs.

"You cannot keep coming home to me like this," She whispered, grabbing the gauze off of the table beside him and wrapping up his right hand, the blood from his knuckles already peeking through the bandages.

"Larson is dead, Leliana," He said, craning his head and taking short breaths, "He killed Warden Dawson."

"Warden Dawson is dead?" She frowned, "I hope that bastard burns for what he's done."

Hawke let out a relieved sigh, "At least there was one good outcome from this mess."

Leliana ordered him to stand, giving him aid by supporting his weight and helping him regain his balance. He stood still as she examined his bruised torso. His ribs were colored purple and crimson red.

"Broken ribs," She confirmed. "What did he do to you?"

She began to wrap his torso tightly, wrapping him up in bandages and compressing his ribs with pressure. She jumped at every little wince he made, but continued.

"He was a pride demon." She looked to him in disbelief, but he simply nodded, "A very powerful one."

"Feed off the pride of righteous wardens who would die for a fabricated cause? Smart," Hawke commented.

"Too smart," Leliana admitted, helping Brady back down into his chair, "He has beaten us. We have no cure, no results, and Damon cannot even legitimize why we attacked the wardens in the first place."

Brady replied with concern in his voice, "Damon? Is he okay?"

"He's alive," She frowned, "But something has erased his memories. He does not remember anything further than serving at Amaranthine."

"Larson did it, I'm sure of it," Brady snarled, "Shit."

Hawke's chest tightened at the idea of being beaten once again. How could the maker grant her with such bad luck? She was alive, but this time, that wasn't enough. Once again she had put her closest friends in danger for another lost cause.

"Dammit," Hawke finally said, "I need some air."

Leliana and Brady watched her depart, only to connect eyes soon after.

"I almost killed her, Leliana," He confessed, "The mark- my hand, it exploded. Everyone around me was killed. I was afraid I had killed her as well, just because of this cursed mark."

She looked at him with sympathy, resting a hand in his lap. "Your mark…"

"I didn't want to tell you," His eyes avoided hers, "But it is killing me, I can feel it."

"Brady-"

"I'm losing my control over it. I don't want to find myself one day killing my own soldiers in the courtyard by accident or-," He gulped, "Or what if I'm with you? Or sparring with Cullen? I cannot risk the possibility of being such a danger to the people around me. I won't allow it."

She placed her hand on his, "While you were away, we had received word from Josephine. The Divine insisted on us attending the Exalted Council as soon as possible," She looked at him with eyes that were an ocean of hopefulness, "Brady, this is it. The council will decide the inquisition's fate once and for all. We could finally put our arms down and live our lives. If what you say is true, that you may not have much time left, than let us live for whatever time you have. No more of the world's burdens falling on our shoulders. We can just… be free."

Brady saw the way her eyes lit up at every word reflecting on their freedom. Larson's words echoed in his head. The dissolving of the inquisition was his goal, and it seemed that Brady would have no choice but to do exactly what he wanted. The inquisition he built had an ever growing target from other nations growing on its back, prepared to pick it apart or use it for their own personal gain. Once again, Larson was able to best him, much to his dismay. He tried to find comfort in Divine Justinia's own words of allowing the inquisition to finish their goal, then once again disappear into the history books like the Inquisition of old. It was a minor salve to the fact Brady would succumb to Larson's intentions, but it would have to do, for his own sake.

He looked at Leliana earnestly, "I can never ask you to leave the chantry. The inquisition might end, but you love doing the work of the Maker. They'll give you some glamourous position to keep you."

"And you think they're going to let you walk around freely with that thing attached to your arm?" She laughed, "Cassandra did offer, but I plan to refuse."

"You'd do that?"

She hummed, "There is so much I want to do, things that do not involve risking everything every single day."

He understood her. The personal sacrifices they have made were taking their toll, chipping away at their resolve. Leliana more than himself, as she has been giving herself to one cause or another her entire life. Regardless of how he felt, he knew she needed to find respite somewhere. As he sat there with his body broken and bruised from battle, he thought of no other perfection than joining her somewhere warm on a shore and avoiding every world crushing issue. It was time for someone else to take the wrings and be a hero, for he knew his time was coming up.

She smiled at him, the warmth of her grin distracting him from the discomfort of his injuries, "We will go to the council, and after we will run. Disappear before they rope us in once again."

He chuckled, only to find himself speaking through a cough, "Runaway together? Just like one of your tales?"

She cocked a brow, "Do you object?"

"Leliana," He said softly, "I just want to be where you are."

"That is more like it."

* * *

Hawke wandered the camp and began to hate the sight of it. She saw the soldiers celebrating what they thought was a victory, engaging in song and dancing, drinking the evening way with salvaged ale.

She moved slowly, as her limbs still felt as though they weighed a ton with every step. She remembered the great green glowing light illuminating fiercely as Brady screamed in agony, and then, nothing. The last thing she had recalled was waking up in the med bay. He didn't manage to kill her with that sorry excuse for a weapon he called a hand, and she was more than happy to accept the fact that being angry with Brady wouldn't change a damn thing. It wasn't his fault, it was the marks. Still, she found amusement in the idea of her lobbing it off in his sleep.

She encountered Isabela and Varric packing up their tents. She approached them with curiosity.

"Moving out?"

"We all are, Hawke. If you haven't noticed, we have completed our mission," Varric said, stacking crates full of books and booze on top of each other.

"Merrill and Morrigan are powering the Eluvian as we speak," Isabela announced, "I preferred to go by ship, but no one listens to me."

"Because no one wants to walk for weeks to find the nearest port, Rivaini," Varric replied.

Isabela rolled her eyes, "I much prefer the walk to whatever elven magic deals with those mirrors."

"I cannot go to Kirkwall," Hawke shook her head, "Not without Anders."

"You will go to Kirkwall, love," Anders said, approaching her from behind and wrapping her into his arms, "And you will sit in your Hightown estate and enjoy the fact that you are finally _home._"

"Not without you," She repeated, "You cannot expect me to leave you."

He chuckled into her ear and pressed a kiss on her cheek, "I've already packed your things. This time, Hawke, let me do something by you."

She pouted, unwilling to let him have his way, "Anders…"

"I will return to you, this I promise you," He said sincerely, "But I refuse to stay as I am," He lowered his voice, "I got a little tip from a Templar sized birdy about the Avvar in the Frostback Basin who were able to separate man from spirit."

"Cullen told you that?" She said with a hint of excitement, "Why?"

Anders shrugged, "It's an apology from the Inquisition, an unofficial apology."

Hawke looked into his caramel eyes and saw his optimism. He needed this, and if she were being honest, she needed it as well. Justice had become a constant obstacle in both of their lives for too long. She never knew if one day she would wake up and Anders would be no longer, only Justice. If he could somehow finally separate himself from the spirit that has been slowly gaining control over him, there was no way she was going to stop him.

"Go," She said with a sullen smile, "But Anders, come back to me. That Hightown estate is not a home without you there."

He knew the prospect of returning to Kirkwall were slim, but he could not refuse the hopefulness in her eyes, "I will."

Carver ran up to them with his battered warden armor jingling with every step. He paused, then nodded his head, "We're all ready to go."

Anders smiled at Hawke, who smiled back just as bright. He pressed a kiss on her lips, taking her in for the last time for a long time, holding onto every detail. She smiled on his lips, leaving a lingering peck on his soft lips.

"I love you, Hawke. I will see you soon."

She pressed her head, breathing in his fresh rain and lightning scent, "I'll hold you to it."


	14. Epilogue

**Author's note: Hey guys and gals! First and foremost I deeply appreciate the followers of this story who kept keeping tabs on this story regardless of my irregular updates. With Inquisition almost out for two years, I (and probably many of you) are grasping onto any content while we wait on the next release. With this tiny little epilogue, it will finally conclude this story. If you guys are still liking the idea of the Inquisitor and Leliana, I will no doubt continue writing these two in misadventures, just say the word. Feedback and your opinions are so important, because they do help me fix anything that might vibe with me but not so much with you as the audience. C'mon guys, I can take it.**

**With that said, thank you so so so much for the kind words and for following this story to its end. Happy reading!**

* * *

Brady once again laid rest in his Skyhold bedroom. The morning sun was bright enough to illuminate the entirety of his suite.

His bones ached for respite, even if it only lasted for the morning. The injuries that plagued his body were once again healed, leaving more white marks on the collection of scars that polluted his skin.

He could see Leliana on the balcony that overlooked the mountains wrapped in his plush purple robe that was entirely too big for her petite frame. He could not deny that she looked a million times better in it than he ever had. Even at her simplest, with her knotted hair falling carelessly against her back, she was breathtaking.

He scoffed playfully, calling out to her from his bed, "Lady Nightingale, is this your idea of seduction?"

Her body turned and she faced him, allowing her robe to slide open for only his eyes to see. She narrowed her eyes. "Why? Is this turning you on, Trevelyan?"

"No, you're just teasing me."

She pursed her lips to the side. "Please, I know all of your tells."

He sat up and leaned against his knees. "Do you now?"

She took long strides towards his bed. "Well, of course." She pushed on his chest and sat on hips. "The cocky grin, the slight squint in your eyes." She leaned forward, levelling her lips just above his and breathed, "I have you right where I want you."

"You'd like to think so." He replied.

"Is that so?" She began to rock against his hips.

"You, Leliana, are a viper." He pressed a quick kiss against her lips. "A very, very, beautiful viper."

She hummed as her lips lingered close to his. Her ocean eyes flickered back to his as she pulled on a grin.

"Poor Cullen is probably waiting on us to make an appearance downstairs."

He leaned against his arm, scratching the scruff on his chin, "Forgive me if I'm not jumping on the opportunity to meet this council."

She pursed her lips to the side. Her hair curtained her shoulder as her head cocked. She ran her fingers through his blonde hair and watched the wrinkles on his forehead disappear.

"What are you thinking about right now?" She asked, her voice hushed.

He pulled on a smirk and shifted his weight, rolling Leliana onto the soft sheets. She let out a soft yelp, erupting a playful chuckle from his chest.

"I'm thinking-," he watched her raise a single eyebrow. "I'm thinking that we should enjoy this moment while we can."

Her smile grew somber as the corners of her mouth were pulled down by unwelcomed thought.

He cocked his head to the side. "What is it?"

"No matter what happens, everything is going to change," She admitted.

"It doesn't have to, Leliana," he argued, "You're right. The inquisition as we know it will not survive the council. I have no disillusions about that, I assure you."

He pulled on a small smile, wiping away a misplaced hair from her face.

"But this… us…," His eyes gleamed, "I'll be right by you for as long as you'll have me."

She chuckled, "How cheesy."

He raised his body away from her and sighed, "Will I ever win with you?"

"Never."


End file.
